Back in Black
by Byakugan789
Summary: Rescued from life on the streets, Eric Sirius Stark is about to discover the wonders of a hithero unknown magical world. Spells, intrigue and monsters await, buried between class and friends and rivals where no one completes their education unscathed. Enter stranger, but take heed… NOT SLASH, not SI, just OC
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Rescued from life on the streets, Eric Sirius Stark is about to discover the wonders of a hitherto unknown magical world. Spells, intrigue and monsters await, buried between class and friends and rivals where no one completes their education unscathed. Enter stranger, but take heed…

Disclaimer: JKR owns the entire Harry Potter franchise. In the deep unlikelihood I get any money for this, I'd have to send most of it to her, so don't bother suing me; I'm just a poor college student.

AN: Spent the last few months writing false starts on Harry Potter AU's before giving up. Still wanted to write a story, so I went with an OC. Review if you like it, kindly forget about my story if you don't. I wouldn't mind flames, but they're rarely constructive. If you hadn't guessed from what you've read so far this story is slightly AU, mostly to include my character whose existence will be explained later, but also because a number of things are going to conform more to my impressions of cannon information that hinted at things but didn't outright explain them. I will try to keep people in character, but in the inevitability that I, and really almost all FF authors, fail I do apologize in advance.

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_Belfast, Northern Ireland, August 13th 1991_

Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall stared at the eleven-year-old boy, her mouth hanging open in shock.

"Hey, witch lady! You all there? You can say something you know…" The young boy was waving a bowler hat with a few pounds in change and bills in front of her face. The boy's face was smudged with dirt and his hair was a dark, almost bloody, red in color. Grey eyes stared intently into hers. "You asked to see the show, witch lady, and I performed so you gonna pay up or do I hafta summon your purse and pay myself?"

That startled McGonagall out of here reverie.

"No. No, dear boy." Taking out her coin purse, she extracted a gold galleon and placed it in the hat, along with the green inked manila envelope addressed to Mr. Eric Sirius Stark. Dirt-stained fingers snatched out the coin and stared at it in wonder. He quickly bowed and a wave of violet light skittered over his form, scouring away the dirt and grime of street life, mending his cloths and, Minerva would later swear to Albus, pressing and starching them as well. When he next spoke his voice was as suave and cultured British as his ten-year-old vocal cords could manage; an affectation that came off being more amusing and cheesy than sophisticated.

"My deepest thanks, dear lady. Is there anything else this humble sorcerer can do for your person?"

The deputy headmistress smiled at him warmly. "I am Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, young master Stark." She replied, a small quirk to the hard line of her mouth. She watched in quiet amusement as the boy's eyes went wide again at her words. "I have come to invite you to attend this year, if you so desire." She watched as the boy's eyes lit with wonder and then fell. Wondering what he was thinking the transfiguration teacher simply watched on in silence, waiting for him to respond.

"I am deeply honored to receive your offer of apprenticeship Master Sorceress," the boy said quietly "but I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline." He finished slowly.

"Oh?" McGonagall asked, her brow lifting in surprise.

"Indeed Madam," the young boy replied, carefully enunciating each word as if afraid of making a bad impression. "You see, I have no money for an apartment, let alone tuition. I get by on the books at the shelter, but that's hardly a proper scholastic resume."

"No need to worry, child. Hogwarts offers scholarships to young wizards such as yourself and when the castle informed us of your situation, I was dispatched to make an assessment. May I ask who taught you magic? Most new students need to be told that they're wizards before they start using their powers regularly. That's something I must actually caution you about. It's against our educational decrees to practice magic outside of school prior to graduation."

The boy paled. "No one taught me Ma'am. I learned on my own after making black fire. Some older boys were shaking down my fellow street urchins and I didn't have enough money, so they started kicking me. The next thing I knew, flames as black as night were pouring off my body; turned all my cloths to ash. Most of the spells I use in my act were developed off books I've been reading at the shelter ever since that day. Everything's sort of hit or miss, but I've gotten pretty good."

Gently placing a hand on the young boy's shoulder McGonagall began steering the boy towards the alley where she had apparated in. "Well, let's head in for your supplies and you tell me about your training while we walk."

"Well, you saw my show. There's the simple stuff like meditation, breathing exercises, focus practice. I'm working on magic sensing, that's coming along well. I still can't see magic, but I can feel it if I focus well enough. Telekinesis is easy enough, it's the first thing I learned to do consciously, as are small charms like cleaning myself up and those color changes you saw in my show. Summoning and conjuration are much harder, but I've gotten them down recently and that's been really good for my shows. I'm working on a way to summon myself so I can do the transported man show, but it's slow going. I've also been working on invisibility, intangibility, transformation, healing and physical enhancement, but so far progress is depressing. I can become transparent by bending light around me, and lift more if I focus, but both fail if I lose my concentration even for a split second. Evocation is still mostly beyond me, sadly. I know I told you I could make black flames, but that only works when I'm uncontrollably angry, but none of the basic elements come easily. Divination is pretty much a bust as well outside of magic sensing. If I had to guess, I'm probably the equivalent of a first year trainee."

_A first year… _McGonagall thought wildly. _The boy's destroying dozens of society's illusions about magic and he thinks he's only a first year. I shudder to think what he thinks he should be able to do after graduation._ "Hold tight to my arm and try to relax." She told him, voice slightly shaky.

She felt pressure on her arm and mused quietly about how she was about to demonstrate something the boy had been failing to achieve. There was a rush of wind and a vicious crushing sensation as she apparated both of them from the alley to the street in front of a pub. Eric promptly let go of her and fell on his rear as the touched down just outside the door to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Y-yo-you figured it out! O-of c-course you figured it out, you're a professor; they probably teach teleportation at school. How did you do that? The compression, a wormhole? Dark gods; that would be useful! It would mean that distance is meaningless! How did you do it? Please!?" McGonagall stared down at the child, startled by how pathetic the boy looked. The desperate look on his thin face tugged at her heart.

"It's called apparition, Eric. It's taught in sixth year and requires a license like a Muggle car. I can tell you how to do it, but not only is it dangerous for those with proper training, the ministry can track where apparitions occur like the Muggle Governments with their cars."

She didn't mention that they couldn't tell who had apparated, only when and where it had occurred, but he could figure that out by himself later in life. Preferably after he'd safely attained his license. She looked down at his crestfallen face and sighed. "Come, we have a scholarship to attend to and supplies to buy. I'm also going to call the headmaster. Since you've been living on the streets we'll have to set up some place for you to live. I don't suppose you know any orphanages or families that would take you in? We can't, in good conscience, let you live on the streets."

Eric gave her a dirty look. "Six years too late to start caring. Mom was killed when I was five, been living on the street ever since. Don't know about dad, mom met him in a bar one night," he replied as they entered. McGonagall gave him a worried look as they walked through the dark, dirty bar. This wasn't turning out well. She was going to have serious talk with Albus while Eric was being fitted for robes.

They reached the back door without incident and Minerva poked the brick that opened the portal to Diagon Alley while Eric watched intently. The point where her wand met the brick turned black and stretched out, first to form an oval, then an arched inky doorway before clearing to reveal the Alley. She heard Eric mutter something about a tesseract and making stable portals and smiled. The boy was headed for Ravenclaw, unless she missed her mark. So curious about how things worked; and skilled too, if his blatant and intentional use of wandless magic was any indication. Outside of accidental magic when you were a child, wandless magic was supposed to be something left to legends like Dumbledore, Flamel, Baba Yaga and Merlin.

Eric's head whipped back and forth constantly, trying to get a good look at everything as they made their way down the street to Gringotts bank. Minerva was certain he would have been running around, trying to explore everything, if she hadn't been there.

Reaching the great golden doors, she was forced to stop as Eric read the inscription on the door. "Headmistress, what do they mean about finding more than treasure?" the red-haired boy asked, staring at the doors intensely as if judging how much they weighed and what he could get for them.

"Well, many of the larger vaults are guarded by powerful enchantments or rare and dangerous magical creatures. The Hogwarts Trust vault for example is guarded by a Carpathian Wyvern, which resembles a small white dragon. Keep in mind that even a small dragon is the size of a house and possesses a powerful resistance to magic so only a fool would try to rob them, not to mention that most wouldn't want to risk offending the goblins by trying in the first place. Goblins wield their own powerful sorceries, exist on cruelty and make up the majority of the wizarding world's bankers and solicitors."

Eric Stark paled dramatically. "Got it. Don't mess with a goblin, just smile and nod."

"An insightful statement, Mr. Stark," the goblin at the door said, pointed teeth barred in a grin. "But don't be too worried. Wizarding law still protects _wealthy_ wizards from… most reprisals." The red armored imp added clearly pleased to impress upon Eric that he was not one such individual.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes Minerva steered her charge through the doors and up to an open counter. "Excuse me," she said stiffly. "We're here to access the Hogwarts trust vault."

"Ah, good afternoon, Mistress McGonagall. You have the key?" The professor nodded and the Goblin turned around. "Gamric! Take these two to vault 13. Gamric will show you the way," the small green form said, turning back to them. Minerva nodded and ushered Eric after their guide. Loading themselves into a wooden mining cart, the older witch told her charge to hold on tight and they were off. The cart blasted forward at breakneck speed turning this way and that, flashing past tunnels and heading deep into the bedrock beneath London. They made turns many times and at several of the tunnel entrances Eric felt a rush of static flash over them. Curious, he closed his eyes and began breathing and focus exercises. Several minutes later, a faint buzz formed at the edge of his awareness and grew in his mind into a purple flame around his center. Shortly after, two more appeared beside and behind him, the professor and the goblin he realized. McGonagall's flame was a good deal stronger than his and moved in patterns he couldn't quite conceptualize while the goblin beside him felt… orange somehow. Then another wave of static rushed over them and Eric lost control as an enormous feeling of power slammed into his mind.

"Beautiful…" he murmured aloud. Where his magic was a single 'color' and felt like a campfire, the wall of static was a mad whirlwind of colors so intense they felt as if they had burned themselves into his consciousness. That must be one of the goblins protections he mused. Opening his eyes Eric grinned madly. Magic was so cool.

Nearly ten minutes later, they reached a large room with a large set of double doors made of a rich oak and bronze. The door was emblazoned with a metal crest as large as McGonagall wrought to look like the Hogwarts badge on the older woman's robes.

"The key?" ground out the diminutive monster sitting beside them. Nodding, the professor removed a medallion from her pocket and pressed it into a stone obelisk near the door. There was a flash of light as the engraved metal settled into a groove in the stone and the metal fused to the monolith. There was a thumping sound and the doors shuddered before grinding open slightly. "Your withdrawal bag," Gamric said, handing Minerva a small leather pouch.

They entered the gap in the doors and Eric gasped, fighting faintness as he took in the bounty descended before him. The room was cavernous, easily capable of fitting the imperial opera house within its depths and was piled full of golden coins. Millions upon millions of half-ounce disks stretching out as far as he could see; the ocean of gold broken by sheer valleys that dipped down to reveal paved walkways of platinum. Off in one corner a mountain of gems glittered; rubies and emeralds shone beside sapphires and many others. Here and there along the walkways were a number of items set upon pedestals that seemed completely out-of-place. There was a partial set of armor here, some folded robes there, one pedestal was embedded with a sword and another held a pair of shiny black shoes. There was a frieze along the upper wall he couldn't easily make out and tapestries hung from the ceiling like sheets of a canopy bed. It was a lot to take in to say the least.

"Scholarship," McGonagall said firmly, holding her sack up to another stone obelisk, marble this time. There was a jingling atop one of the piles of gold and coins began pouring into the bag. "This vault is the Hogwarts trust, a fund which is managed by the Board of Governors. It was started by the fortunes of the four founders of Hogwarts and many alumni have contributed to its growth over the last eleven hundred years. As you can see, it has grown quite large. The trust is left largely untouched and gathers a yearly interest that goes to pay for things like scholarships for Hogwarts' less fortunate students, the rather generous salaries we pay our professors, supplies to run the castle and repairs for the various damages that the old structure often accrues. Most of the interest from the vault actually goes to fund the care and expansion of the magical game preserve that surrounds the castle. We house the largest population of magical plants and animals in Europe and the creatures and the wards separating them and modifying their habitats need constant maintenance. If you want to know more, you should consider talking to Rubeus Hagrid. He manages the habitats of Hogwarts more dangerous inhabitants."

Her piece said, the scholarship money collected, McGonagall ushered her shell-shocked charge out to the waiting cart and they were off. Eric turned to the goblin driving the wooden bucket.

"Mr. Gamric, sir? Are Gringotts coins pure metal?" Seeing the beginnings of a snarl on the face of the Goblin turning to face him, he quickly amended his statement. "It's just that each coin is easily half an ounce and a bag full of gold should be much heavier."

The Goblin looked at him suspiciously as if trying to discern a reason to get violent. After a few minutes he huffed. "Goblin coins are only forged from the purest metal. They're light because of the enchantments we place on them. Same magic that keeps them out of circulation in the Muggle economy; it's funny watching all the Muggle students as they try to trade them outside where gold is worth more." His piece said, the diminutive demon turned forward again and missed the determined frown that appeared on Eric's face. McGonagall didn't, though, and it sent a chill down her spine. The boy was going to try something, she was sure of it.

The cart came to a stop soon after and the trio clambered out. The goblin went off one way without so much as a backward glance and they left the bank. Back in the Alley, the duo headed for Ollivander's. When they reached the drab grey shop, McGonagall smiled warmly as her charge got visibly excited and started babbling some nonsense she couldn't make out at 'a mile a minute' or so the saying went. They went into the shop where Mr. Ollivander was servicing another customer. They watched as the man excitedly ran back and forth pulling out wand after wand until he fit the girl with a ten-and-a-half inch Blackthorn, griffin mane core, thick but pliable, good for dueling.

As the girl and her mother left, Garrick turned to them, his pale silver eyes magnified by a pair of absolutely ridiculous glasses till they seemed to take up half his face, and smiled. With a negligent wave of his hand the pile of several dozen wands lifted themselves off the chair they had been discarded on and repackaged themselves before flying off. "Minerva! How pleasant to see you again, my dear. New student? Or were you here to take me up on that offer...?"

"Not this time, Garrick. Young Mr. Stark here needs his first wand."

"Hmm… Mr. Stark, you say?" Ollivander said, getting down in the young boy's face and staring at him closely.

"Is there something wrong, Garrick? We are in a bit of a hurry after all," the deputy headmistress remarked pointedly.

"It's nothing, really. I just thought I recognized the boy, but there haven't been any Starks in wizarding Brittan for nearly three hundred years. Who were his parents?" the man continued, as he brought out a measuring tape and note pad. Eric squirmed uncomfortably as the tape floated across his body measuring the most bizarre things, such as the distance between his pupils and the length of his nose.

"I'm muggleborn, sir," Eric cut into the conversation. "Never knew my dad, mom died when I was five." Ollivander frowned again.

"You have your mother's name, then." Eric made as if to ask what he meant by that but the old man launched into an explanation of wands and their properties. "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magic substance, Mr. Stark. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons among others. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand." He walked over to a shelf and pulled out a long thin box. "Here, try this one. Alder, 9 inches, Bowtruckle spine core. Nice and pliable, good for transfiguration. Go on, give it a wave."

Eric took it and slashed it through the air. When nothing happened immediately, Ollivander snatched the wand away and deposited it on the same chair the last customer had used. He returned moments later muttering to himself. "Beech, 11 inches, unicorn hair. Rigid, good for charms." That wand too followed its predecessor. The next, cherry and unicorn hair sent tingles up his arm and he mentioned it to Ollivander, but it was snatched away as well. The next several wands were different combinations with either cherry or unicorn hair. It soon became apparent he was getting the most reaction from cherry wands, and Mr. Ollivander was becoming quite excited as the wands began to pile up. The twelfth wand, cherry 12 ½ inches, dragon heart string felt warm as it made contact with his hand. "This one feels like testing a hot bath, sir." The young boy commented as he waved it lazily through the air.

"No, no, we're getting close though Mr. Stark. I can feel it."

Three wands later, Ollivander came back, looking smug. "Here you go," he said, looking like a cat that had eaten the family's canary. "Go on, give it a wave." Eric did so and the wand began spitting out basketball-sized bluebell flames that crackled with purple accents as they floated harmlessly around the shop. "An excellent match, Mr. Stark. That'll be 13 Galleons."

As Minerva walked up to pay the wand maker, Eric looked up at the man. "Um, sir? What kind of wand is it? You never said."

The man smiled from the counter where he was counting out the coins before putting them in a bag. "Nine inches, wood from a very old cherry my family has used quite often and the heart string of a particularly intelligent dragon. Icelandic blue to be precise, so named for those blue flames your bonding produced. I must warn you, though, while I've made quite a few, I don't often get to sell cherry and dragon wands. You see, it takes a master of exceptional control to properly handle the power of one. This particular wand has four brothers, but I've yet to sell them; most of my customers seem to prefer Welsh Greens. I think we can expect a great future for you; a great future indeed."

They left the store and headed to a travel shop on McGonagall's insistence. After shutting down a very enthusiastic sales girl who tried to entice them to buy magical luggage, they purchased a large steamer trunk, and then proceeded to Flourish and Blotts. Eric had pleaded with her to get practically his own personal library but they had merely acquired the school's list. Madam Malkin's and the apothecary passed quickly, though Minerva had taken some time off during Eric's fitting to speak to Dumbledore. By dinnertime they were back in the Leaky Cauldron, eating a simple stew.

"Eric," McGonagall said as she neared the end of her bowl. "The headmaster asks if you have a nearby homeless shelter or soup kitchen, and, if not, would like to extend an offer to you of staying in the Leaky Cauldron for the duration of the summer."

Eric was silent for several long moments. "That's very generous of him," he replied taking another slow bite of soup. "What does he want in return?"

Despite the phrasing, McGonagall didn't think it was meant as a question so much as a statement of guilt. Almost as if the boy had been expecting something nefarious along similar lines.

"He seemed quite concerned that one of his students was living on the streets taking care of himself," the older woman said primly. "It's a rather unusual situation and while I don't know much about how Muggles handle things, it's considered rather improper in our world. The founders used to adopt such children and house them at Hogwarts, but it was rare enough that the tradition has been lost in the last several hundred years. The situation just hasn't come up in a long time. Most orphan students are already in homes by the time they receive their letter."

Eric still looked suspicious but accepted the chance to stay at the Inn for the next two weeks. With that the elderly professor took the building's fireplace to Hogwarts. She had much to discuss with the headmaster.

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Eric sat in his new room, staring at the gold coin McGonagall had given him for his magic show. It was light and easy to handle, no real sense of weight. _Enchanted against sale in the Muggle world, _he thought viciously. _We'll see about that!_ The gold twinkled back at him, mockingly. _As if the goblin hadn't been enough_, he groused. Settling into the lotus position like the Zen books he'd found at the homeless shelter said, he placed the coin before him and began breathing slowly. In to a count of nine, out for the same, hold for a count of five and repeat. Comfortable, and without the distractions of the cart, Eric fell into the trance after two minutes of repetition. As his core came into awareness the young boy noted how it seemed to be burning cleaner than before. If he had to describe it out loud, he'd have called it the difference between the flickering light of a Bunsen burner and the precise cone of a propane torch.

Moving toward and then inside it, Eric embraced the power and slowly more objects began to light up in his mind. A vein of power trailed down his arm and off to the side somewhere. Following it he found a brilliant mix of blue purple and earthy brown and red. The power gave him a mental image if a black birdlike form and fierce alien intelligence; his wand, then. Focusing on another of the tingles niggling at the edge of his mind, he felt more growing earthy things and a random collection of animals and insects he couldn't begin to identify pressing against his back. Those were most likely his potions supplies, piled in the cauldron inside his trunk. He found it interesting that they had their own magical energies, but after a few moments of contemplation, it made a strange sort of sense. These people believed that potions had real power to them, enough that they had made an entire class just for the subject. If the concoctions didn't have some sort of magical properties, what would be the point?

Turning back to his search, Eric finally found the golden coin less than a foot in front of him. The magic felt slippery somehow, scrabbling at the very edges of his mind. It was orange like the goblin had been before but trying to grab hold of it in his mind was like trying to grab hold of an oily fish he'd found off the Clarendon Quay one day. Trying to get a good grip on it took several hours and he fell out of his trance from frustration many times before he finally had it.

The coin floated before his consciousness, streams of orange fire running in and out of it. Eric studied it closely, trying to discern a way to sever those magical bonds. It was 3:51 in the morning when he came across the answer. The numbers at the bottom held the greatest concentration of the orange fire. The serial code he remembered one of the wizards downstairs explaining to him. Every goblin made coin had one. It identified where the coin was processed, the goblin who had crafted it and the number of coins said goblin had made prior.

Coming out of his trance the young boy considered briefly. He glanced up at the bird house clock and the wall as he thought about how to use this information. It would be useful if he could simply tear the magic away from the markings but maybe it would be better if they simply were removed entirely? He could figure it out in the morning, he decided. He had a hammer and several scraping tools back at his hideout and now that he'd seen real teleportation, it shouldn't be too difficult to reproduce.

Decided, he stood up and popped the stiffness out of his limbs. Seven hours in the same position couldn't be good for your health, he decided as he crawled into the first real bed he'd had in years.

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Dumbledore gazed placidly at his transfiguration professor, as she systematically destroyed her fabled reputation for calm and proper bearing. It was quite fascinating to watch her rant, really. Her wild gesticulations did absolutely wonderful things to her breasts, he noted. It was really a pity he was gay. Still, this boy she was talking about… To be able to perform wandless magic as a youngster wasn't so unusual, but to do it intentionally? That was rare. The last one, to his memory, had been Lily Evans. Wonderful girl, in a better world she could have brought real change to their sedentary world with that mind of hers. Her death had been such a pity, he mused idly.

Then there was the boy before her… Ironically, the same one who had murdered poor Ms. Evans. Tom had always been an unpleasant boy, he remembered, nothing like dear Gellert. Where Lily and Gellert had wanted to help people with every other breath, Tom, though he kept up the face of a model student, had only ever shown a willingness to help himself, and the more people it hurt the better. He'd have to keep a close eye on this new child. Seeing Minerva flop, quite unladylike, down in the squishy purple armchair across from him, he decided to speak up.

"Now that you're in a calmer frame of mind, Minerva," Dumbledore admonished gently, "what were your impressions of the boy? Did he seem kind? Honest? Or was he rude and selfish? Don't hold back in your assessment, blunt honesty is often the best for characterization, I've found," he finished, blatantly ignoring his own habits regarding such mannerisms.

"He was very much the showman," she said slowly, carefully going over her memories of the child. "He played the crowd like a professional, getting everyone involved and doing his best to make people laugh. Though that may have been because he wanted money, he was sizing me up as well. If I hadn't been so surprised by exactly what he was doing, I think he might have gotten me to smile a bit and once he found out who I was, he became quite the gentleman. I'd hesitate to place him in Gryffindor though..."

"Oh?" Albus cut in. "Why ever not? He sounds quite like the Weasley boys to me."

"Well, it was the things he said during our trip that got me. He's a very curious boy, constantly asking question about everything. He wanted to know how everything worked and obstinately refused to accept the explanation that it was simply magic. Many of his questions were actually very insightful and well thought out. Things I'd have expected out of a brilliant sixth or seventh year." She paused then, as if considering.

"Yes?" he prompted.

"There was one thing that concerned me, though," the younger witch said slowly. "He was very suspicious of your offer to pay for his stay at the Leaky Cauldron and indeed the entire situation with his Hogwarts scholarship. He kept getting jumpy whenever things were offered to him, as if he expected me to ask for something even more valuable in return or to suddenly take everything away. He may also be considering trying to cheat the Gringotts gold exchange," she added as an afterthought.

"Really?" Dumbledore asked, amused. "Do you think he'll manage?" the old wizard queried, as his thoughts raced over his new charge's obvious trust issues. This could be a problem. He'd have a talk with Filius later. He wasn't about to let another paranoid and potentially violent child run around with that kind of power unchecked. Not after Tom… not ever again.

"He mentioned the ability to sense magic shortly after I met him. If anyone could figure out how to properly cheat the goblins' enchantments it would be him."

"Indeed," he said slowly. Indeed… and with Mr. Potter coming back... well, the next seven years were going to be interesting indeed.

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_Holes_, he thought fiercely. _There is a hole between me and my destination. I will step forward and pass through the hole, and then when I am done I shall be at my destination, whole._ Concentrating on the memory of the crushing, pulling feeling of his trip with McGonagall, Eric lunged forward. He'd been doing this since breakfast earlier that morning and was on the edge of a breakthrough, he was certain of it. He'd managed to teleport to the other side of the room a little over half an hour ago by complete accident, so he knew he could do it, now he just had to figure out how he'd done it and repeat the process.

He stumbled and caught himself. Damn, another failure. Sitting down, he started meditating. Achieving his trance state, he turned his focus inward instead of heading straight for his magic. Within seconds the hazy walls of his old room appeared around him. Walking over to one of the walls his brow furrowed again and a picture frame appeared, the image inside it shifting and sliding as if in a movie. He watched it, paying close attention to the sensations that poured off the image like a miasma. He'd spent the last two hours and 50 some minutes calling up his power and lunging forward, trying to force his magic to carry him through an imaginary hole in the space between points. He watched obsessively as he finally, in a fit of frustration shifted across the distance, the image seeming to melt and then snap back into focus as he caught himself against the far wall. How had he done it? HOW?

He watched the memory again and again, looking for minute details in thought and action. It was there; it had to be. Some minute detail, some action or gesture that set this attempt apart from the previous ones. Eric stayed that way for nearly an hour, viewing things at various speeds, picking apart every thought, feeling and emotion he'd experienced at the time, as if it might be the vital clue to his success.

On a whim, he brought up the memory where the elderly professor had taken him along in her own teleportation and played them side-by-side. After another twenty minutes, he saw it. Slowing both down dramatically, he watched them together. There it was, as he was hopping around in frustration at being unable to perform the magic he spun around. Playing right beside it McGonagall made a sharp turning motion as they were sucked into a point at the corner of his vision.

He fell out of his trance and back to the real world quite abruptly as the realization hit him. Power, destination and focus, that was what the guy at the bar had been talking about destination, determination and deliberation weren't enough he'd said. You needed something more, he'd insisted, but Eric hadn't understood the man's lurching as a description of the movement.

Standing up and stretching out till things popped, he stumbled back to the wall and focused. Eyes narrowed, mind focused, power rising, his destination in mind, Eric twisted sharply and felt himself being yanked through a pinpoint hole just before his vision. Bands of force pressed against his torso, shoulders and waist, his eyes and ears pressing into his skull and the world melting from one perspective into another. Everything stopped and he stumbled against the far wall.

He'd done it… He _had __**done **__**it!**_

Eric bounced happily around the room giggling and clapping his hands in elation. He was free! Free, free, FREE! No more being stuck in dead end alleys running from larger boys, no having to worry if he could fall into his power fast enough to defend himself. No fear of killing anyone else with the black fire if he could just escape with a thought and a twist. Maybe now he could figure out how to call it out deliberately now without those silly irrational fears mucking things up. He still had nightmares about those boys' faces crisping and flaking away as the ebon energy lapped across their skulls.

He shuddered, memories crushing the happy, heady feelings of success. He ruthlessly began to repress the memory, as he had many times before; it had taken the shelter volunteer Jessica months to get him to the point where he could function again and sleep without night terrors from that incident and he was not about to succumb to it now. Not when he was so close. His mind's eye flashed briefly over the look of sheer terror that had replaced shock as they realized what was happening, the blood curdling screaming as their bodies bubbling and flaking away broke them free of the shock. It still felt odd to him that he was glad how much this memory disturbed him, as if it was a line that kept him safe so long as he didn't step over it. The fact that he still worried over how they must have felt, or who, if anyone, was going to cry when they didn't return home.

That and the fact that it was an accident which happened in self-defense were the chains with which he bound the thoughts. While he may not have been a murderer, a killer he definitely was; and he was glad for that small bit of difference. After all, what kind of person would he be if the end of three young boys at his hands did not shake him? As long as it did not bring him pleasure… he would cope. He would persevere as he always had.

Much calmer, he began focusing on his hideout of only a few days ago and vanished. Reappearing with a soft _whump_ of air, Eric caught himself against a wall and looked around. It was his cellar all right, not two feet from him was the cardboard shanty nestled up behind the heating element for the apartment building above him. Walking into the hole of the hideaway he started pulling it apart. As the layers of the hovel came away Eric packed the hidden caches of bills and small bags of coins into another bag he drew from his pocket. Old people hid their money under the mattress; he hid his in the frame of his house. He had learned long ago never to carry around more than a few pounds at a time; many areas of Northern Ireland were ruled over by gangs of one type or another and a small kid with money was an easy roll. All told, he had nearly 700 pounds in change and small bills. It was a fine haul and if he played it right would inure the goblins to his activities when he started playing the currency market. Somebody taking things too fast was more than likely what had caused the goblins to catch on and enchant the coins in the first place.

Four years of pretending he didn't make more than a quid or two each show had always netted him sympathy from his crowd and his growing skills with illusions had been put to work to make him look unbearably cute and his hat empty, making people feel guilty enough to throw real cash at him. He'd never gone hungry when he could help it, that was for sure. The first six months as a run-by pickpocket and digging through trash cans was enough for him.

Pulling out a little magic to smooth and sort the bills into stacks, he conjured paper bands to bind each. He repeated the process with the coins, polishing them and stacking them by type in little rolls of paper like you saw in a bank. Once done, he began loading the rest of his possessions into the pack, shrinking them so that everything would fit. Tools and clothes were carefully arranged over a layer of bills and his weapons were wrapped up in a blanket and placed on top. Finishing, he shrunk the sack , stuffing it in his pocket, leaving just a little bulge and turned the corner out of his crawl space.

Right into the barrel of a shotgun.

"Well lookey here, pikey thinks e' can rabbit o somin. Where you offa?" asked the one holding the gun.

"You mad as a box o frogs iffn you thing you can skip out naw," said a scrawny man hiding behind the gun toting ones bulk. "You still owe us 100 nicker eer the last job. Where is it?"

"Ned, Scrapps, good to see you. I dona suppose you's give a bloke a time a day?" Eric said, raising his hands carefully.

"Ye ad the time a day a fortnight ago," growled Ned. "Naw cough it up, pikey!"

"I told you, I had nofin to do with tha heist," he begged desperately as he stalled for time. Focus, focus, focus dummy! Destination, determination, deliberation, twist!

His attackers were saying something and shoved him with the barrel of the gun. Taking the opportunity he turned the fall into a twist and forced power into the idea of being somewhere else. There was the sick feeling of being dragged through a colander and he was back in the Leaky Cauldron. Collapsing to the floor Eric let loose a deep sigh of exhaustion. Safe. He had done it. He was safe now. You couldn't hurt someone you couldn't hold onto, and you couldn't cage in a teleporter.

He lay there dozing, thoughts swirling in a massive haze for nearly two hours, when a chime came from the mirror. "It's dinnertime, dear," the charmed glass above the headboard said. "Straighten yourself up, you look scruffy!"

Smiling, Eric pushed off the floor and ambled his way down the stairs. A quick glance at the clock above the bar told him it was 6:31. Dinner was stew again, the same from last night, if the taste was any indication. Probably the same pot, too. _Ah well_, he thought morosely, _at least I'm not the one paying for it._ Stark mused, thinking of Hogwarts and their 'scholarship'. He wondered how far it went for those who had homes and places to stay… Did it just cover tuition? The only criteria McGonagall had placed on it was that it was given to magical blood that couldn't afford to attend otherwise. But did that include shiny new equipment? Even if it was the bare minimum, it seemed a little off.

The boy finished his stew, contemplating his situation in silence. At 7:13, he handed his bowl back to toothless Tom and headed for Civilian London. Muggle London he reminded himself, that's what they called it, and what he should start calling it, too, he supposed. It just sounded so strange. Muggle. It felt like it should be a curse word or something else demeaning. And perhaps it was; it signified to his new community that these people were lacking somehow. As if; perhaps they weren't good enough, because they didn't have that essential spark that made you a wizard. Eric frowned. That didn't sound good at all. Such belittlement built contempt more often than pity and he had seen well enough what that led to. And him being a 'muggleborn', he was likely to be painted with a similar, if not the same brush.

Eric Sirius Stark felt a sudden chill creep up his spine.

Shaking his head, he asked a passerby where to find the nearest bank. The man looked at him suspiciously and gave directions. Presently, he arrived at a Lloyds bank, a common establishment in London. Walking in, he reached for his magic and put up an illusion of disinterest. Once he was sure it was established he conjured stilts and wrapped himself in an illusion of a 20 something in jeans and a cardigan. The illusion wouldn't hold very well if someone tried to touch him and wasn't easy enough to pull off in a dangerous sort of situation but it was simple enough he could play quick and dirty with it instead of needing to meditate before performing.

He took the time standing in line to pull out and un-shrink his bag. Reinforcing the disinterest spell, he levitated everything out of it and repacked the personals before stowing it back in his pocket. By the time he got to the teller he had the money stacked, marked and ready to go.

Behind the counter a cute brunette in a sheer business suit marked with the banks symbol smiled warmly at his illusion. "How may I help you today, Mr.?"

"Stark," the sorcerer replied. "I don't have an account here, but I've heard for a small fee you'd be willing to consolidate bills and coins into larger notes?"

"That's not entirely true, Mr. Stark," the woman said frowning slightly. "We are fully capable of trading cash for higher marked bills but we only offer that service to our customers. If you'd like to open an account however, I would be happy to assist you with our full range of services."

It was Eric's turn to frown this time. _Bugger_. Banks often required you to keep a minimum balance in your account and provide a minimum deposit when opening one. This was a fairly ubiquitous establishment so the fees would likely be small, but it was the principle of the thing that bothered him now. Making a quick decision he smiled at the woman. "Well, in that case would you mind assisting me in setting up an account? I do seem to be the last person in this line." He finished with a smile. It was 7:40 and the door said the bank didn't close till nine, so he should have time.

Visibly biting back a sigh, the woman smiled and began walking him through the process. He provided the address of the Leaky Cauldron as his own, when asked. The woman was suspicious when he claimed not to have any social identification. He claimed status as a Romani to cut down on her questions, but eventually they got through everything. The minimum cash deposit to open the account was 100 GBP and the minimum balance turned out to be 50, which surprised him. His total cash on hand came out to 734pounds 27pence. That left him with 684 pounds to trade into galleons. Reduced to 13 bills if he took it all with him, he looked at the woman's notepaper and decided to leave the last 4 pounds. 680 pounds would net him 136 galleons (137 with the one Professor McGonagall had given him), 137 multiplied by 1050 GBP an ounce divided by two for each coin being half an ounce… would bring him up to about 72 thousand pounds.

Eric grinned under his illusion. He was going to be rich.

Assuming, of course, that he could disenchant the goblins' gold and he found a soul willing to handle that much metal from a complete unknown.

The boy left the bank and disappeared in a nearby alley. Coming to a nauseating halt in the yard connecting Diagon Alley to the Leaky Cauldron, he proceeded to open the portal and seek out the goblins. Gringotts, it turned out, was open 24/7/365. The reason for this was fairly simple, as he found out later in his reading. Goblins were naturally nocturnal and had a fairly large clientele of dark creatures that, along with having money and an aversion to sunlight, had the common sense not to conduct their business in easy view of the distinctly prejudicial wizarding community. So when a lone human entered a bank full of vampires, hags, a banshee, were-beasts, and what he could have sworn was a Drowolath woman sitting on a house-elf borne throne, the attention such a human would garner was more than just mildly disturbing. Fairies flitted around the ceiling with a trio of harpies and a dragon crouched along its curvature. All in all, it was not the safest place for him to be. Most of these beings would view a human child as a snack, should civilian fairy tales be believed.

Eric ducked back behind the large engraved doors, hoping against hope that none of the creatures within had noticed him there staring. Perhaps he should come back in the morning? _Yeah_, he decided. _It's for the best._ One on one these creatures could be dealt with, peacefully at best, violently at worst and he'd be able to walk away, but in small groups or enormous ones like this? Discretion was definitely the better part of valor.

**_1234567890987654321_**

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, examining the Sorcerer's Stone. It was a fascinating piece of work. It completely circumvented Gamps' 8th Law about the five principal exceptions to elemental transfiguration. Just add power and the stone would sweat a clear liquid that revived dead animals, turned metals to gold, stone to gems and firmed sections of dry wrinkled skin on his arm. The temptation to drink a stein full of the elixir was enormous. His mind drifted through dreams of resurrecting Ariana from her grave and running off with her and Gellert, living happily into eternity.

Fawkes trilled at him admonishingly and he saw that he'd been channeling energy into the stone and it was dripping elixir all over his desk, which was steadily transforming into a tree and wrapping around the stone and his now young, arthritis-free hand. He yanked his hand out of the hollow in the plant and stopped the flow of power. This was exactly what he'd taken the stone in order to stop, he reminded himself fiercely. He set the stone on a small silk pillow and placed both in a gold-lined box. He needed to get rid of this mess before the staff meeting to discuss the protections for the stone.

The meetings would be held individually, so that no one person beyond himself would know how to attain the stone, but he already had a good idea what the protections were going to be. Anyone who knew the people involved could probably guess, but that was where things would break down. Everyone else would _only_ be able to guess. He already knew what he intended to do. There was a rather ancient ritual called the Will of the Elders that he intended to employ. Set up correctly, the spell acted a manner much similar to a muggle repelling charm, but the ritual could be used to target anyone the caster designated or didn't designate. In this case, he intended for the spell to subtly push the idea that the stone was useless and should be left alone, to increase steadily as the seeker approached while allowing someone who didn't want the stone to pass through unhindered. It was quite brilliant if he did say so himself.

There was a knock on the door and Dumbledore stowed the stone in his desk. Severus was here, so things were about to begin in earnest.

**_1234567890987654321_**

The next morning, Eric sat in his room with a knife in one hand, his golden coin in the other. Careful not to cut himself, he drew a groove through each of the letters on the coin's ID number. Turning it over, the boy repeated the process. He didn't really expect this to work, but should it prove to be so simple, who was he to argue?

His task done, the young street urchin settled down to meditate, the coin in his hands. When he had achieved the proper state, he turned his focus to the gold in his hands. As expected the orange magic was still there. Erring on the side of caution, he took fifteen minutes to tune his sight to look at the coin's enchantment as closely as he could manage. The flow wasn't as clean and ordered as it had been before, but the result wasn't anything to brag about either. However, this did seem to confirm that the best way to get rid of the magic standing between him and riches would be to do something about those marks.

Coming out of his trance, Eric brought out a hammer and a small iron rod. Using his power to provide a solid platform for his work, Eric used the hammer and dowel to flatten the characters into the coin. Once both sides were clear of the targeted markings he went back into meditation and repeated the previous inspection. This time the damage was more pronounced, but there was still nothing worth celebrating over. Determined not to be discouraged, he retrieved the knife and conjured a handkerchief before proceeding to gouge the soft metal where the markings had resided. Once he was certain he had shaved away all the tainted gold, he used his magic to telekinetically squish the shavings into a small ball and held them in either hand. With all of this practice meditating, he'd probably be ready for battle meditation by next summer rather than when he hit middle age.

That amusing thought running through his head, the last Stark dove within himself again. Perceiving the coin once more he was frustrated to see that the magic was still there on both pieces of the coin. Going even deeper than he had the first time, he saw that both pieces were still connected by a thread of magic. Extending his own power forward to cleave the strand proved futile as both sides reached out to reconnect to each other rather than a one way attempt to connect the formerly runed metal to the rest of the coin. His frustration roughly snapped him out of his self-induced fugue state. Flexing his will, he crushed the metal into a single solid lump and glared poisonously at it. He knew the thoughts were childish, but he still couldn't help silently ranting at how a stupid piece of metal dared refuse him.

The boy's magic crackled and hummed around him in response to his agitation. He formed both hands into claws and pretended he was tearing the armored goblin from the Gringotts' gates apart when he felt something shift in the room. He was still holding the ball of gold in a telekinetic grip and there, floating beside it…was a small mote of pale orange light.

How?

He looked back and forth at his hands in amazement. It couldn't possibly be that simple, could it? How had he even done that? Grab and tear, rend and break… he had wished to destroy a goblin… and the only thing goblin related in the room had been separated from its housing. A chill crept up his spine. Could he do that to magical creatures? Or was it limited to magical items. This could get really dangerous. He'd have to consult some books; but where to find the right ones? His mind blew over everything he had read at the homeless shelter's book exchange. The D&D players handbook had mentioned that ability to remove enchantments from magic items as a part of the craft magic items and armor feat. It had been very vague about how to do so, concentrating more on the point values of materials and their products than the actual performance of any magic. The fantasy world had provided a lot of good ideas for what to do with his powers, but he hadn't paid much attention after it had become clear there was very little on the actual performance of such.

The question now was what to do with the magic. Would letting it go send it back to his precious gold? Would it dissipate or perhaps warn the goblins of his skullduggery? There was that one book on Chi that said you could consume magic from the land to fuel your body and techniques, could he do the same with this magic? Was it even safe to do so? So many questions...

There was really only one way to know. Floating the ball of gold over to his hands, he tried to push the goblin magic away and released his hold on the foreign power. With his power no longer containing it, the orange energy faded from view and disappeared. Holding the ball of gold firmly in his palms, Eric fell into meditation one last time.

He hoped.

Once his magical awareness was established, he turned his focus to the lump of metal in his hands and growled. The magic was back, but it had an unfocused, nebulous feel to it. It was as if the energy had known there was a purpose to being on the gold, but couldn't remember what it was and was stubbornly clinging to the metal like some demented fan-boy. Imagining the mouth of a dog he'd seen savaging a cat in a back alley one day, he focused his energies on the orange magic and ripped it away from the nugget in his hands. After a few seconds of deliberation, he began trying to tear the magic apart, hoping that if it had no flow to follow that it would simply dissipate, but after an hour of no luck, Eric was ready to give up. Time was wasting, and he needed as much as he could get if any of his plans were to work themselves out.

Turning his focus from his magic to his memories, he went over all of the books he had read since discovering his abilities. Most of them had been donated to the shelter by a group of new-agers. Pagans and the like; or at least people who thought they were. Zen, Wicca, Taoism, a variety of fantasy novels, an original printing of the first edition Dungeons and Dragons set complete with prayers diagrams and magic theory and a set of Tarot cards that he still had in his pack. The cards were useless, unfortunately, but they made a good part of his act and with his magic allowing him to pull out any card he wanted on a whim he could make up any story he thought the customer might want to hear. Skimming through the information he had absorbed over the last four years of reading and rereading them, he hit upon something he thought might work.

Wiccan priestesses believed that they could cleanse houses by using rituals to drain negative energy into stones. Granite specifically, but the details weren't really important. If the concept was sound he could do something similar with the goblin magic and attach it to something else. Thinking of a rock yard he'd played in during his time in Ireland, he flexed his magic and summoned a fist-sized stone. Ripping the alien energy away from the gold one last time, he pushed it into the stone and held it there, willing it to settle where it was encased by the rock and his magic for several minutes before Eric backed off and took a look at his handiwork.

He grinned.

**_1234567890987654321_**

_Vicarage House 58-60 Kensington Church Street, London…_

A smiling Eric Sirius Stark strode out of the Gold Star Trading Post, wrapped in the illusion of a businessman in a bowler hat. The image was a cliché in the extreme, but it seemed somehow appropriate to him. His chunk of gold had netted him another 420 pounds. It was nearly 100 pounds below the current trading price for the material, but he was still explaining his lack of identification away as being a Romani so getting that much had been a trial of negotiation and posturing.

Eric shrugged to himself. He now had 1100 pounds to take into Gringotts so what did it really matter? Even being cheated a fifth of the price, he'd still be making some serious bank. 1100 pounds at standard exchange became 220 galleons. Each galleon was half an ounce so that meant 110 ounces of gold at 1000 pounds an ounce. He'd have 110,000 pounds at the end of today if everything went well. If he got cheated again, that'd still be nearly ninety thousand pounds.

Walking into a nearby alley, he gathered his power for a jump and disappeared.

Reappearing in the shadow between two shop fronts in Diagon Alley, Eric walked up the steps of Gringotts and got in line behind a silver-haired man with a cane. The line slowly wound down as wizard after witch were led away by a steady stream of goblin assistants. As a regal looking blond man with a cane was led off to speak to his account manager, Eric stepped up to the desk and peeled away the forward part of his illusion so that, with him holding onto his stilts within the shell of power, it looked as if he were driving a life sized robot suit. The goblin at the desk blinked, momentarily taken aback before grinning in appreciation. "How may Gringotts assist you today, human?"

"Eric Stark," he said gesturing and causing the stacks of Muggle money to float their way onto the desk before the goblin. "I've recently completed a rather profitable job in the Muggle world and would like to trade my money for wizarding currency. I have things to purchase in the alley you see."

"Of course you do," the stiff-suited gremlin said patronizingly. "Let's see here." He licked his fingers and thumbed through the bills. "That's 1100 pounds sterling; the current exchange rate is 4.9 pounds to the galleon with a service fee of 2 galleons… Would you like a pouch to hold your 222 galleons?" Eric shrugged and accepted the pouch as it was tossed to the desk in front of him. "We'll be in contact with you, Mr. Stark. I can assure you there will be some parties very interested in that disguise of yours."

Now it was Stark's turn to look startled. The goblins wanted his method? Didn't they have their own sorceries? And why would they even need to hide themselves around humanity; weren't they relatively well entrenched in wizarding society? They were the world's bankers and lawyers after all. He did his best not to hurry as he left.

When he arrived back at his room, he pulled out the pouch and poured out the coins. It wasn't that he didn't trust the goblins to give him proper change, but… Well, he didn't trust them. Even without the professor's warning that they 'existed on cruelty', they gave him the same feeling as he'd gotten of a number of drug dealers. Malicious, corrupting, predatory... Shuddering, he used his emotional rise in power to draw the energy to the surface and began levitating the coins into neat stacks of ten and lining them up. There were indeed 22 stacks as well as 2 extra.

Using his telekinesis, he began crushing the coins together 20 at a time, into eleven 10 oz. masses of burning metal and a single one oz. blob. The metal heated up on its own as the coins' forms were warped and twisted by the conflicting pressures. Completing the formation of the balls of gold, he used more of his power to force the cooling of the artificially light metal and set them on the ground. Pulling out the stone he had used to anchor the goblins' magic from the last attempt, he began tearing away the sorceries one ball at a time. The magics were just as confused and muddled as they were when he had last done this, but the sheer volume was so much more this time that he had to take several breaks for snacks and water down at the bar. Eventually, the entire mass of energy was stored in the rock beside him.

The power of 223 enchantments snapped and hissed from the stone on the floor and Eric studied it in interest. Picking up the stone proved it to be feather light and the visible aura of power around it seemed to roll away from his flesh as he touched it. He tossed it up and watched it float back down to his hand. Fascinating. Closing his eyes for a moment to gather himself, he flexed his power and encased the goblins' magic again, forcing it to contract within the stone. While he was doing this Eric diverted some of his power to reshape the rock into a better approximation of a ball and removing air pockets and fissures where he noticed them. As he finished this he released a lot of the force holding the foreign magic confined and turned it to summoning sand to coat the outside of the ball. Soon, a small but visible layer of glass covered the stone and he fully released the sphere from his power.

The magic no longer leaked out of the stone as it had before, snapping and hissing violently, but swirled and roiled within its crystal shell, causing the thing to light up like a disco ball he'd seen in an American movie once. It would make a brilliant paperweight, he decided.

Turning back to his gold, he reshaped the balls into ingots like those he had seen on display in the Gold Star, even going so far as to meditate so that he had the image perfectly in his mind while he worked. This time he took his metal to the bank. After a meeting with the manager he walked out with a healthy account of 100 grand and ten thousand in his pocket. Life was good. He entered Diagon Alley after a quick stop at the Cauldron for some dinner and sent a post Owl to McGonagall. Life was good.

**_1234567890987654321_**

Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, professor of transfiguration, stared at the letter in her hand in disbelief. She'd hadn't even left the boy alone for a week and already he was claiming to have found gainful employment and offering to repay her the scholarship and his time at the inn, copper for copper. She glanced worriedly out her office window, searching for something wrong. She was not a superstitious woman but surely this might be the first sign of the apocalypse? The poor penniless street rat offers to repay his scholarship when established pureblood families like the Weasleys had spent centuries requiring the school's support. What was next? Arthur winning the Daily Prophet's yearly galleon draw? A muggleborn Minister of Magic?

Perhaps it would be best if she just ignored this? She doubted it would simply go away, but it might cut down on the number of headaches the boy produced…

Standing up, Minerva grabbed a pinch of floo power from the jar on the mantel and stepping into the fireplace called out "Leakey Cauldron", throwing the powder at her feet. Never let it be said Minerva McGonagall backed down from situation just because it was uncomfortable.

**_1234567890987654321_**

Eric walked through Diagon Alley a bright smile on his face and a slight skip in his step. 2000 galleons chimed pleasantly in his pouch, waiting to be spent. First things first, he intended to upgrade his trunk. In his mind, this was far more than a question of vanity, but rather utility. Several of the trunks he'd inspected previously had cavernous compartments that could fit anything from a small storeroom to a fair-sized apartment within them. If he had one of those, not only would he have a place to put all of his belongings, he wouldn't have to worry about where to sleep when summer came. Setting up his pocket-sized cellar with a bed and fireplace would allow him to have all the comforts of home with him wherever he decided to go and connect him to the larger wizarding world at all times. Add a camouflage spell to the setup and he wouldn't have to worry about pesky callers either. He wondered briefly if he could set up electric lighting and a computer in there as well. Magic could produce electricity, so why not?

Arriving at the shop, Beyond Boarders Magical Luggage, he asked for a catalogue and sat down to browse its contents. What he found surprised him. Instead of a list of the ready-made trunks that littered the main floor in ordered stacks, the catalogue was a list of attributes for custom-made luggage. There were a number of options on the list such as self-cleaning, self-organizing, signature attuned locks, contents cushioning charms, a feather light enchantment, options for trunks with the standard single compartment or as many as twelve separate simultaneous storage spaces, an unbreakable spell and even a summoning matrix so that you could never lose your luggage if it was stolen.

In the end, Eric decided to go with an already enchanted single compartment steamer trunk with an infinite expansion charm on the inside that would allow him to expand the inside to any dimensions he desired, so long as he was willing to pay the energy cost to adjust the borders. The trunk he chose also came with the full complement of charms for good measure to the tune of 210 galleons. 1050 pounds he thought, trying not to choke as he counted out the gold. Still, it was worth it, he thought as he walked out the door with his weightless, indestructible trunk, idly playing with the carrying size settings set by the handle. Opening up the lid, he smiled as he saw a set of velvety off-black stairs leading down into the box's unknown depths. Oh yeah, this was going to be fun.

Walking out of the establishment he began to fantasize about what he would do with his new portable safe house. Since the space inside was technically infinite, being limited only by the number and complexity of its borders he could literally have anything he wanted stored within. He'd have to plan this out carefully, he decided. did he want an apartment, fortress or an island? he was planning to store most of his belongings down there so there was also the question of if he'd still need the trunk Professor McGonagall had bought for him or not it seemed like such a shame to get rid of it... maybe he could use it to store special items? Like a safe or something... if he could learn warding then it could become something like the Dr. Fates vault or Elemisters lockbox where the legendary heroes of DC comics and D&D had hidden dangerous artifacts away from the world. These pleasant fantasies running through his mind he continued on his shopping trip.

He was about to enter Flourish and Blots intent on creating his own library when he saw a familiar face calmly marching down the street. Shrinking the trunk down until it fit in his free pocket he ran over to the aged woman, smiling. "Professor!" he called, "Professor! Thank you for coming! It's good to see you again."

"And you too, young master Stark. Now, what is this about paying back the scholarship to Hogwarts?" the silvered brunette asked firmly.

"Right to business then. Can I offer you a refreshment at least?" he returned with a frown, gesturing to Florien Fortesque's ice cream parlor just up the street. He watched as the woman's lips pursed before looking back at him. He gave her a bright hopeful smile and her shoulders sagged. Big softie, he thought, recategorizing the woman as he'd learned to do so many years before; he'd have to remember that.

"If you insist," came the reply. "Rocky road." Eric rushed off to order, knowing his soon to be teacher was following behind him. When he returned to his teacher's side with the requested treat and licking a cone of mint chocolate himself, he was sure the corners of her mouth had turned up slightly.

"Now Mr. Stark, what is this about you paying back your scholarship goods and tuition? It's not completely unusual for poor families to need tuition assistance to attend and we're happy to provide. When I last saw you, you had little more than a hat of change to your name."

"True, but think back to when you first met me. I was doing magic without a wand and you offered me gold for it." He said turning serious. "That might only be a quid to you, but in my world, that means something. With a single piece of gold, you paved my way out of the streets and I made it work for me. You put me in your debt in more ways than one that day. Paying you back is the least I can do. It's not as if it would inconvenience me now," he finished, leaning back in his chair and staring at her solemnly over the top of his ice cream.

The professor raised an eyebrow at him. "So you just happen to have 900 galleons on you, just ready to burn?" She saw his wince and pressed on. "Don't be silly child, your tuition is paid for and your materials were cheap. Don't bother your… self…" Floating before her eyes was a steady stream of gold clacking its way into stacks of ten before her eyes. "Where? How?" she breathed, unable to conceive how a muggleborn could possibly have achieved this in such a short time.

"I told you, professor. In the muggle world, gold means something." He pushed the collected coins across the table at her. McGonagall stared, unable to say anything as her mouth dried and her throat stuck in shock, She just sat there blinking as her ice cream melted in front of her. "Professor? Professor! Are you alright?" McGonagall came back to reality to find a concerned Eric crouched on the table, shaking her, a concerned look in his eyes.

"I… Uh, I d-don't..." she stuttered.

Eric looked down at the mess he'd made of the gold on the table and the number of people now staring at them and put up his disinterest illusion. "A little too much?" he asked, looking embarrassed.

The witch gathered herself and after several moments contemplation spoke mechanically. "Hogwarts tuition is 500 galleons a year and your school supplies were a mere 20, the most expensive thing on the list was your wand and only because of the safety restrictions on your unusual combination of core and wood. Even that would have been considerably less if I had taken you to second-hand shops to gather your supplies."

"You don't want to ask me how I got this much gold?" the young boy asked, an impish grin on his face as he resorted the money, leaving 520 on the table, winking at her.

"I'm sure I don't want to know, Mr. Stark. So long as you didn't try something stupid like robbing the goblins I'm sure it'll be safer for my sanity if it remains a mystery." She said, mechanically collecting the gold in a leather pouch. "Good day, Mr. Stark. Please do me the favor of not causing this kind of chaos when you're at school, will you? We already have the Weasley twins, I don't think the castle could handle much more." With that she walked away.

**_1234567890987654321_**

His thought process having been derailed by his meeting with the professor, Eric went into a nearby alley to play with his trunk. Setting it down and opening the lid, he descended the steps to look around and decided what he wanted to do with the place. What he found was a small landing just big enough to stand on. Frowning, he tried to remember what the salesman had said about the magics that had been chiseled into the trunk's interior. The space was set up with an infinite expansion charm the man had said. At the cost of his magic, it could be made to expand to literally any dimensions the user wanted.

Shrugging, Eric placed his palms on the wall before him and concentrated on a hallway. To his satisfaction, the blank wall in front of him recessed to form a long tunnel just a few inches taller than him and wider than his outstretched arms. The expansion was accompanied by a slight draining sensation in his gut and he smiled. So far, so good. Kneeling down, he placed both palms on the floor and built an image of what he wanted in his mind. Once he felt ready, he pushed the thought into the chest and braced himself for the drain.

It was a good thing he had, as the underground compartment of the trunk expanded and shifted to fit its master's will, Eric was overcome with a deep-set sensation of nausea. When it finished he tried to get up and stumbled against the wall of his new stairwell. Seeing the twisting spiral stair he smiled. The trunk, now a square measuring 5 by 5 feet opened to a spiral staircase that descended into a larger well with plenty of walking space all around. The space was lit from nowhere in particular giving the place an odd surrealism due to the lack of any shadows. Directly in front and behind the stairs were two arched openings that exited into another circular track, three feet wide and six tall, both ceiling and floor curved to make it look like the burrow of some magical entity, which in fact it was.

From the intermediate ring, one could get access to five more oval doorways to any of five large rooms, all unfortunately empty for the moment. The rooms themselves made a massive ring around the central structure enclosing them in a five-sectioned doughnut with more doors in the separating walls. There were only two irregularities in these rooms. One of them had a deep depression where Eric had intended to place a swimming pool and the other, right in front of the stairs, was covered in row after row of protrusions that ringed the room from top to bottom, being meant to hold his growing collection of books.

Removing his first trunk from his pocket, Eric opened it and carefully levitated his current collection of schoolbooks onto the shelves. He'd hoped for wood and carpet, but this would have to do until he could visit a store for furniture and appliances.

Clambering out of his new port-a-home he went straight back to Fortescue's for another ice cream, this time ordering a full pint of dark chocolate chunk. He was scraping the bottom of the dish an hour later and feeling significantly more human. He gathered his trunk from the alley and went to the apothecary. Once there, he bought an enchanted silver knife and self-stirring ladle, both capable of taking instructions. Furthermore, he expanded his inventory of ingredients so that he had a sampling of everything in the shop. He didn't buy much of each because he didn't know what would be useful, but he should now be able to experiment with the year's text, and who knew, maybe some of it would be valuable in the real world. He smirked as he thought of the world's doctors breaking their minds over one-shot health potions and cackled madly as he unloaded and labeled everything on the back shelves of his library.

Finishing, he stopped by a specialty robe shop and decided to look around and see if there was anything useful. LaSalle and Nordstrom's Quality Tailors was the fourth shop he tried and, while it didn't sell Hogwarts robes, it was the first place that didn't give him strange looks when he asked about enchanted clothing. Despite this, they didn't offer anything he had asked for. That wasn't to say they weren't willing to try and accommodate him, simply that his ideas apparently hadn't crossed their minds before this. What they did offer upon his walking through the door were dress robes in a variety of styles and fabrics, wizarding garb of every foreign country except America, who apparently were very insular when it came to their relations with wizarding Europe, a variety of invisibility cloaks featuring preset disillusionment, user-powered disillusionment and demiguise silk cloaks, and finally their big ticket number, the one that had caught Eric's undivided attention.

Chameleon robes.

Chameleon robes were the personal invention and pride of Mr. Nordstrom's father, the shop's founder and sole holder of the patent. In England, at least. The robes were enchanted with a powerful transfiguration spell sewn in runes along the seams and borders. Drawing upon the user's power, the robes would change into anything the wearer specified. The only limit to the clothing apparently was that it had to be made of cloth as it would change into neither hide nor metal. Eric happily promised to purchase one and they spent the next hour discussing additional enchantments that could be added to the ensemble. When he left Eric held a ticket detailing his order or two chameleon robes with additional charms for self-cleaning, self-repairing, cooling and warming charms to maintain any desired temperature, an air freshening charm to deal with fumes and strengthening charms to make the robes resistant to damage. The clerk told him to come back before he left for King's Cross in September to pick them up. As he took the ticket, the tailor also added that if it was finished earlier, then he would send an owl with the price and notice of pickup.

Next, Eric entered Flourish and Blotts bookshop and promptly purchased the entire standard book of spells, years two through seven before he began browsing the shelves in earnest. Many, well really almost all, of the titles and authors meant nothing to him so he quickly gave up trying to browse that way and began opening to random pages and reading for several minutes before adding them to the pile or putting them back. When that yielded little of interest he went to the manager, who could typically be found wandering the aisles offering suggestions on various books to customers as he passed. The man seemed quite pleased to help him and offered him a steady stream of advice in response to his questions. Eventually he just gave up and set 100 galleons aside, spending the rest on as many different books as he could get Mr. Blotts assurance were non repeating tomes of practical magical knowledge. He was sure he would get to reading them eventually.

His final stop was Morpheus Brothers' Enchanted Furniture store. There, he bought a magical oven, refrigerator (an icebox the clerk insisted), a four-poster king sized bed and, telling them it was a bath, got his pool installed. The end price came out to 27 galleons 13 sickles and 6 knuts. When he asked why all that effort and material had been so cheap the man had laughed and explained that most things in the wizarding world could be made by any wizard with a passable knowledge in charms and transfiguration so the truth of purchases was that instead of buying something you were, more often than not, renting the proprietor's brain rather than buying a material item. The primary exception to this was when purchasing potions materials such as magical animal parts or magical plants, which couldn't simply be copied or enlarged by some hooligan with a wand.

Having bought everything he could think of that would be useful, Eric trotted up the dark alley to the Leaky Cauldron. Sitting down, he ordered a steak (cow, apparently Tom had numerous kinds in the back, including veal, ham, snake and, oddly enough, dragon) and opened Hogwarts a History.

**_1234567890987654321_**

AN: Ok, Before anyone asks, Yeah, I know, the gold thing is a little odd, but I had to think of some possible reason none of the muggleborns or their parents ever thought to exchange wizarding gold in the normal world. It just didn't name any sense to me, the potential gain of doing so was just too obvious for no one to have taken the idea and run with it. So, I came up with a reason. People have thought of the increasing price of gold and how much they could stand to make off the goblins by playing the markets, but the Goblins thought of that too and either prevented it or put a stop to it after someone went hogwild and blew the whole game.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

Eric stood in Kings Cross Station, his chameleon robes shaped like blue jeans, a muscle shirt and a black leather jacket. His normally untidy long hair was tied back in a tail which he was convinced looked dashing. He stood there looking dubiously at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. It appeared quite solid and the civilian leaning against it wasn't particularly encouraging. Raising Hogwarts a History back up to face level he read the passage again and looked at the sketch of the man melting in and out of the wall, waving at him and gesturing rudely. Shrugging he closed his eyes and walked forward. As his head plunged into something that felt like water he heard the someone shouting for him to wait before the sound was cut off. Opening his eyes Eric found himself under a woven metal archway, his back to a matte black surface that seemed to absorb light. Placing his hand on the barrier it immediately fell through, the edges sparkling like some sort of hologram in one of his sci-fi books. Sticking his head through the field he found himself face to face with a boy a little shorter than himself, looking at him in wonder.

"Umm… hi!" the boy said. "I was going to ask you how to get through the barrier, but now I just feel sort of embarrassed." He said rubbing the back of his head.

"Well don't let me stop you." Eric said with a grin. "Just let me get out of the way and you can walk right through. Careful though, the portal isn't very wide." Thus said he stepped back into the platform and off to the side. As he passed out of the alcove he found himself facing a large open air platform and large brilliant red steam engine. "Only a century out of date. I'm impressed."

"What's impress? Whoa…"

Eric chuckled. "You don't get out much do you?"

"Not really, but can you really tell me that isn't impressive?" the dark boy asked looking at him incredulously. Now that they were both on the platform Eric took a better look at him. His skin was a pale, unhealthy color which contrasted sharply with his pitch black hair that looked like he had a bad case of bed head. He had large expressive eyes of a really shocking green color that Eric could have sworn were magnified by large poorly cared for glasses. …or perhaps well beaten glasses, he thought as he took in the boy's cloths. They were enormously over-sized and appeared to literally hang off his frame. All in all the boy reminded him of some of the more unlucky street rats he'd lived with at one time or another.

"I used to live in a train yard." Eric shrugged. "spend a few months raiding refrigerator cars and running from yard security you see a lot more impressive models." He held out his hand to the boy. "Name's Stark. Eric Stark."

The boy took his hand enthusiastically. "Harry Potter." He said.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Potter, let's get onto the train shall we?" He made as if to walk away but turned back when he noticed the boy hadn't followed. "Something wrong?"

The boy started. "No." he said. "It's nothing." Harry said joining him, pushing the cart with his trunk before him. "It's just you're the first person since this whole thing started who didn't know my name."

Eric frowned, _probably a pureblood then_ he thought sourly. "Should I?" he asked as they passed a group of children and their parents. Harry shrugged and pushed back his hair revealing a jagged lightning shaped scar. "Sowulo." Eric remarked.

"Excuse you." Came the reply.

"Your scar's shaped like sowulo, it's a Norse rune meaning the sun. It's a symbol of hope, sudden change and recovery. How'd you get it?"

Harry laughed. It was a pleasant sound, one indicating happiness and surprise. Then his face turned dark. "I got the scar when my parents were murdered by the recent dark lord. No one knows why, but when he tried to kill me he disappeared and all I got was this scar. Ever since I came back to the wizarding community everyone I've met has been treating me like some sort of national hero. It's kind of scary actually."

Eric felt slightly ashamed for thinking bad of the other boy. "My mum was murdered to when I was five. I'm still trying to recover the memory, but someone came to our house and there was a fight. They set her on fire and burned down the house. I don't know about my dad, Never met him Mum said she met him in a bar a few times before I was born. Kept telling me I look like him."

Harry nodded as they reached the train. "Want to help me with this trunk? And where is yours? You're not coming to Hogwarts without any school supplies are you?"

This time it was Eric's turn to look smug. "Na, I got mine shrunk in my pocket." He said patting his jacket pocket. "Here." He closed his eyes and a few seconds later the trunk and Owl cage were floating up the steps of the compartment to hover by the door. "Shall we?" He gestured at the train.

"How'd you do that?!" Harry shouted.

"Magic, how else?"

Harry got close as they entered the car and hissed at him. "But you didn't use your wand! I may not be a genius, but my books say that's impossible."

"What? You never developed your powers? I thought everyone in this world could."

"Yes, but not without a wand! Accidental magic is supposed to be just that, accidental! The books say it stops when you get your wand." Harry insisted as they entered a nearby compartment, Harry's trunk floating after them.

"Don't be ridiculous. I know a wand's useful, bonding with it really cleaned up my control, but it's just a focus. It makes things easier is all, even civilians know that! I'll lend you a few books I used before learning about Hogwarts." Harry was still looking at him strangely but Eric was lost in thought and had stopped caring. Was he really that unusual? He sifted through his memories of reading the text books, looking for something that could possibly prove him right but more and more it was looking as if wands were the only way to go about properly performing magic. But that couldn't be right could it? He did it easily enough. Harry was trying to get his attention again he realized as an unfocused feeling of pressure repeated itself.

"Huh?"

"You completely zoned out." Harry told him. "Are you alright man?"

"Yeah, just thinking… You know what? I'll teach you!" Eric said nodding firmly. He slid off the seat and landed on his knees with a thump. Crossing his feet, ankles on the floor, he sat down and put his hands on his knees. "It's really simple to do if you know how. After all, you've been doing it for years without thinking about it. Remember all those weird things that happened around you growing up?" Harry nodded.

"My magic, proof that I'm a wizard. Hagrid told me." He responded.

"Rubius Hagrid?" Eric said looking up sharply. "I'll have to get you to introduce me. Professor McGonagall said he manages the school game preserve. Anyways, the first thing you have to learn to do magic like I do is meditation."

"Medi-what?"

"Meditation. It's the art of focusing your thoughts. Your magic is…"

The door opened and a boy with shining orange hair poked his head in. "Anyone mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

Eric shot the boy a dirty look but Harry quickly invited the boy in, eager to make a new friend. Eric closed the door with a twitch of his head and pushed himself off the floor. Sitting back in his seat Eric glanced out the door seeing even more people outside than when they'd come in. _Full up my arse_, he thought. _He came looking for Harry._ He turned back to the pair and watched as Harry and Ron Weasley introduced themselves. Ron faked surprise and asked to see the scar, acting like a fan boy the whole while.

"Are they all like this Harry?" He asked an eyebrow raised.

Ron's ears turned red as harry turned to answer him. "Yeah." Harry replied. "I'm still trying to get used to it. It was a lot worse in the leaky cauldron."

"Yeah, and who are you anyways?" Ron grumped, glaring at him, his face still slightly pink.

"Eric Stark." He replied, holding out a hand. Ron cringed and hesitated a moment before taking it.

"Ron Weasley." He returned shortly. The boys shoulders slumped slightly and he let out a sigh. "Let's start this over, yeah? You got a quidditch team? I'm a cannons fan myself."

"What's quidditch?" Harry and Eric said in unison. They looked at each other sharply and broke out grinning. They turned back to see Ron looking back and forth between them.

"What's quidditch?" he spluttered. "You need to ask what's quidditch? It's only the best game in the world!" he nearly shouted, shock warring with enthusiasm. Eric shrugged while Harry made the mistake of asking Ron to explain. Eric listened as Ron made a big production of it, complete with gestures and stories about time he and his brothers had played pickup games in their back yard. There were seven players to a team, a goalie, three offensive players, a pair of primary defense and the seeker. The seeker made no sense to Eric and he said as much.

"That's completely and utterly unbalanced." He put in, interrupting Ron's story about the acrobatics of some more famous players.

"What?" Ron asked, turning to Eric his arms still raised comically.

"The seeker." Eric explained. "He makes the entire game pointless." Eric insisted. Seeing Ron pale and then go dark red he continued, pushing forward before the boy could explode. "Each of the players have a reason to be there. There's the keeper, who guards the goal posts, a common member in any field game. Then there's the chasers, they score ten points a shot, your basic offense and literally the entire point of the game. Next come these beaters. I'm not entirely sure what a bludger is, but it's pretty clear they're the defense like in rugby or soccer, running interference and protecting the scoring players."

Ron was nodding, proud he'd been able to educate these poor souls in the wonder that was quidditch. He should have been more worried about what was coming next. "So you get the game, what's the problem?"

"Why have a seeker at all?" Ron's face darkened again, but Eric forged on. "In a single move the guy scores 150 points and stops the game." He raised an eyebrow at Ron who nodded in agreement. "Just by existing he completely unbalances the game. 150 points would swing the win away from the better team or make the win a complete insult to the losers, but that's hardly the worst of it, I'm still trying to work out how the rest of the players can stand to work with a position that makes all their efforts utterly pointless."

"THEY'RE NOT POINTLESS!" Ron thundered, finally breaking. He was quite fond of the keeper position and being told by some muggleborn he might as well not play was too much for him. He was about to expound on this when Eric cut him off. He was really beginning to hate this guy.

"How many points are usually scored in a game? It's probably less than 15 isn't it?"

"Sometimes." Ron conceded, growling. "but sometimes the seekers are evenly matched and the game doesn't end for days." He spat out, though how he thought this would possibly help his case Eric couldn't fathom.

"And sometimes it ends in a few minutes." Eric finished. "So not only do you admit that the seeker make the rest of the game pointless, he also cheats the fans by making the game as long or short as he wants. I couldn't imagine enjoying a game that ended as soon as you got there. I mean, it takes hours just for the stands to fill up for most types of pro game, I'm assuming that doesn't change for wizards? No teleporting right to your seat or anything?" Ron shook his head confirming his suspicions.

"That's actually a good idea." The redhead muttered. "You can't do it at Hogwarts, but outside? I don't think any of the stands are warded against apparition."

"So why not just drop the seeker position all together? It'd never survive a muggle game long enough to get to the judges table."

"But then how would you decide when the game is over?" Ron asked aghast.

It was at this point that Harry decided to interject. His second and third friend were fighting and he didn't like it. Taking a side was asking for trouble, but he wanted to end this quickly. The crowds were beginning to thin out as it approached 11 o'clock and he didn't want to listed to two boys sniping at each other the entire trip. "You use a clock, just like every other game." He put in startling the two boys out of their trains of thought and glaring session. "C'mon, can we talk about something else? You said you had brothers, Ron. All I ever had was my whale of a cousin, Duddly."

Ron began describing his family and Eric sent Harry a questioning look as Ron pointed out the train occasionally indicating one family member or another. Harry returned his look with a reproachful one, nodding slightly at Ron as if to ask why he'd felt the need to antagonize the ginger. Eric elevated both eyebrows and stared at his new friend significantly. Harry frowned and shrugged, his head tilted to the side before turning back to their companion.

Eric grumped and fell sideways in his seat. Closing his eyes he concentrated on his power and summoned a ball bearing from his trunk. Pointing at it for focus he set it floating above him. After several minutes of this he added a new one. The train started moving and Ron shrank back from the window as if not wanting to be seen by someone. Eric added another metal ball to the previous pair and kept them wobbling in the air as his concentration wavered with the trains movement. The compartment door opened again a number of minutes later as he added a sixth ball to his mental juggling and promptly lost control. A pair of heads as brilliantly orange as Ron's were poking into the cabin.

"Hey, Ron." The twin heads said in a creepy unison.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train," one said.

"- Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there." The other finished

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Who are your friends?" said the first twin, "Did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother."

"Ron's spoken of you." Eric spoke up, levitating the iron balls to his hand with a wave. Ron had been rather less than pleased to have the two as his brothers from the boy's comments, it seemed that the two were always pranking their kid brother and didn't always soften the blows for him like they did for others. That was enough of a reason for Eric to like them as the fan-boy attitude of the younger Weasley was beginning to grate on his nerves. His first friend since he was five and the ruddy ginger was hogging all his attention.

The twins grinned, looking for all the world like cats with milk. "Oh?" one of them said. "And what has-"

"Our wee, ickle bwudder-"

"Been saying about"

"Us?" they both finished.

"Why'd you have to say that?" Groused the redhead in question.

"Eric Sirius Stark." Eric said holding out both hands which the twins shook simultaneously.

"Harry Potter." The smaller boy added, waving his hand from his place by the window.

The twins promptly forgot all about their earlier question and focused on him. "Blimey, are you really?" The right one asked.

"Have you got the scar?" The other continued. Harry was turning pink again at all the attention and ran his hand across his forehead, moving his hair out of the way to reveal the scar.

"Wicked!" They chorused, sliding into the compartment, their friend forgotten.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" Ron asked pointedly before shuddering. "With Lee and his monster?"

"Nah," They said.

"We think we'll"

"Stay here and"

"Keep you company!" They chirped, once again moving back and forth between which head was carrying the conversation. Eric watched them both with fascination; he'd never seen this level of coordination before.

"Much more interesting." They turned to regard Harry. "Do you…"

"Remember the attack?" Harry asked, having already been through this with Ron and sort of with Eric. The twins nodded. "Nothing. All I've got is a lot of green light and flying on a motorcycle with Hagrid." The twins nodded solemnly for once. They spent the next hour talking before Fred and George left. The pair were interesting and Eric took advantage of the time to introduce himself properly and show off a few tricks. The twins were as dumbfounded by his use of wandless magic as Ron, Harry and McGonagall had been but they recovered a lot quicker and with a dangerous gleam in their eyes had made him promise to teach them later at Hogwarts. Their fake groveling had set him into fits of laughter and he had quickly agreed, the pair looked like they'd be a lot of fun…

A short while later Eric was playing with his magic again when the door opened once more. Eric was about to snap at the newcomer when he saw a plump woman with a pleasant face smiling down at him, a little amusement in her eyes as he set up. "Anything off the trolley, dears?" she asked in an alto.

"Yeah." Harry said from the window. "I'm starving." The smaller boy jumped up and headed for the cart. Eric grabbed his arm and caught his friend's eye.

"Get me some chocolate?" he asked, pulling a gold Galleon out of his pocket and putting it in the other boy's hand.

Harry shrugged. "Sure thing."

Eric sat back and waited for him to return with the sweets. Ron gave him a look and he tilted his head in question. The freckled fan-boy turned pink and looked away, playing with what looked like a set of wrapped sandwiches. Presently Harry walked back in his arms loaded with what looked like half the cart and dumped it on the seat next to him. "Not much in the way of chocolate," Harry said in way of apology, handing his six silver sickles. "but the witch promised these frogs were dark chocolate, so I got you some." He pointed to the pile of several dozen oddly shaped wrappers. "I just hope they aren't actual frogs." He finished with a small shiver of disgust.

"Nah," Ron replied. "They've got an animating enchantment or two on them, but it's just chocolate." The red head explained looking pointedly only at Harry. "It's the cards that make em special though. Each frog's got a trading card with a famous witch or wizard. I've got loads back home."

Eric nodded and opened one. The chocolate was good rich dark chocolate Eric noted happily as he munched on a squirming leg. Used to be he'd only get stuff like this for special occasions having considered survival and building his rainy day fund far more important than simple comforts like this. He sighed, slouching down in his seat as he enjoyed the taste. He could get used to this, he thought. He was finishing off his third frog when the door opened yet again, causing him to groan. Were they ever going to get any peace on this infernal train?

"H-has any anyone s-seen a toad?" the intruder sniveled. Eric looked up at the taller boy in irritation. He was a good several inches over Stark's own height and dirty blond with a noticeable amount of baby fat. Seeing that neither Ron nor Harry were going to respond beyond looking at the kid on the far side of the compartment, Eric rolled his eyes and spoke.

"C'mere." He grumbled, his voice hard. The boy flinched, but followed instructions. He'd done this often enough for civilians in his shows and the quicker the boy left the sooner he might be able to get back to his chocolate. "I can get you your toad." Eric said simply, watching as the boy brightened. "But to do that I need you to do exactly what I say." The blond nodded, his tear-stained cheeks jiggling with the rigorous motion. "Ok, sit down across from me." The boy did so and Eric sat up, time to get this over with. "I want you to stare into my eyes and don't look away. Good, now, clear your mind of everything except your toad and want me to see it. Very good, now keep thinking about it." As the boy followed his instructions he reached for his power and began channeling it through his eyes toward his counterpart. He didn't specifically need eye contact to do this, but it had always helped with civilians in the show. As he did so Eric started getting flashes of images dozens of memories of the toad floated through his mind and he nodded.

"Ok," he said. "Stop, and watch closely. Try not to blink." Idly noting Harry and the fan boy watching he took hold of the power he had been using to watch the boy's memories and focused on the toad. He wanted the toad, he needed the toad, it was here in his hands. He chanted the words in his mind several times, pushing the magic into the thought as he waved his hands before his face, opposite each other. With a flash a large green amphibian fell into his lap looking startled.

Loud gasps filled the compartment and the boy across from him thundered out "Trevor!" The frog turned to look at the blond instantly as if in fear and tried to leap across the compartment. Neville was faster and caught the warty escapee in both hands, all smiles. "Thank you!" he gushed, clutching the poor amphibian to his chest, looking as if he was doing his best to flatten it. Eric put a finger up to his mouth as the boy continued to thank him profusely. When he didn't stop he added a glare and pointed at the door. With a squeak Neville sat and quieted down considerably.

"Really," the boys said, much quieter now. "Thank you for getting my toad back. It was given to me by my great uncle Algee when I first showed signs of magic. For the longest time my family was afraid I was a muggle." He explained, looking down.

Eric tilted his head in interest. "Magic families can have kids without the gift?" he said questioning. That was sort of odd, in all of the books he'd read parents always passed down their power to their children, it was just a matter of whether the children saw the purpose in their power and learned to use it.

"Yeah, no one knows why it happens, but my Uncle Algee was always trying to catch me off guard and scare me into performing magic. He pushed me off the end of Blackpool Pier once and I nearly drowned, but nothing happened till my eight birthday when he hung me out the fourth floor window by my feet. Aunt Enid offered him a meringue and he dropped me, but I bounded all the way down the drive. They were all real chuffed, Gran was crying she was so happy. Great Uncle Algae was so proud he bought me Trevor. What? What's wrong, are you all right?"

Eric was staring at him jaw hanging open in shock. This couldn't be; his own family! He wouldn't believe it, family loved each other! "H-how often d-did that type of thing h-happen?" he asked, his face pale.

"Eric, are you alright, mate?" came Harry's voice from across the compartment where he had broken his conversation with Ron.

Neville was looking at him weirdly, but answered. "Dozens of times." The boy said with a shrug.

Eric went white, his fists shaking with fury, _how could family do that to each other?! His own Uncle, tries to kill him on a regular basis and he just shrugs it off?_ The compartment began to heat up as ebon flames started rolling off his shoulders. _This was unconscionable _he raged. He was going to find this man and beat him within an inch of his life, he was going to… *slap*.

Eric reeled in shock, the black plasma dissipating as he refocused on the world to see Harry standing between him and a cowering, whimpering Neville. "The bloody hell, Eric! What's wrong with you?" the scarred boy hissed at him.

"His own family tried to kill him, Potter!" Eric snarled back, his shock at being slapped forgotten as the rage crept back up. "Repeatedly, and he just shrugs it off as if it was a reasonable thing to do! Just because as a child he couldn't do magic!"

"My aunt and uncle locked me in a cupboard without food or water when they thought I _was_ doing magic." Harry said quietly.

Eric stared at his friend, at a complete loss for words. _These people had families, their lives weren't supposed to be like this!_ It challenged his beliefs about what a family was supposed to be on a fundamental level. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Ron was gaping in shock as well so at least he wasn't alone in his assertion and that comforted him somewhat. He slowly sat back up and noticed that Neville had left the compartment while he was out of it. There was a croaking sound by the door and he watched as the proof of atrocity hopped off down the corridor.

_I'm going to set that toad on fire_ he thought darkly. It was hard to realize that compared to some, even he had a charmed life. His thoughts were interrupted as the compartment door slammed open to reveal a bushy haired girl, already in her Hogwarts robes. "Which one of you did it?" she hissed, eyes flashing.

"Did what?" Ron asked dumbly.

"There's a boy out in the corridor out of his mind with fear, crying himself silly!" the girl snarled, showing large front teeth. "He says someone in this compartment did it."

"That would be me." Eric said coldly. The girl turned on him eyes flashing. She was about to tear into him, but Eric cut her off. "NO. I will not be lectured by you. He up and told us his family was trying to kill him because his magic was weak!" Eric snarled. "I will not apologize for losing my temper. Something like that shouldn't happen, I may be looking at this with the rosy glasses of a five year old who loved and lost his family, but the way I see it I had every right to be furious."

The bushy haired girl stepped back, her mouth open in shock, face white. Then she recovered slightly and spoke again, her voice quiet and forceful. "That doesn't mean you have the right to traumatize the boy, he's obviously suffered enough already." She said her face determined.

Eric looked momentarily shame-faced. "I didn't intend to scare him, I just got so mad my magic got away from me. Harry stopped me before the black fire hurt anyone." He said, gesturing behind him.

Harry waved to her from his side of the compartment. "Harry Potter." He said in way of greeting.

"Ron Weasley." The redhead piped up.

"I suppose proper introductions are in order." Eric mumbled turning back to the young witch. "I'm Eric… are you alright?" The girl's mouth was handing open again, but instead of pale she looked flushed.

"Harry Potter? Are you really?" she squeaked. "I've read so much about you! I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Am I?" said Harry, looking disturbed.

"Goodness, didn't you know? I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do any of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad…"

"I read he was a Slytherin." Eric said shrugging. Hermione turned to him sharply. "Where did you read that?" she asked.

"Pride and Pretense, a compendium of famous and powerful wizards by Batilda Bagshot." He said shrugging. "It's got a whole section on Dumbledore in there." He said as he removed his trunk from his pocket. "Mr Flourish at the bookshop suggested it to me when I asked him for books on practical knowledge." He continued, wandlessly unshrinking and unlocking his trunk. He gestured at the open hole and a book flew out of it into his hand. "Here you go…" he paused, pulling the book back slightly.

"Hermione Granger." She breathed, snatching the book out of his hands. "How did you do that? Is your trunk especially enchanted? That must have cost a fortune!"

"A little, but I found a fruitful investment and things worked out. Mr Flourish said the book would help me get a newt in magical history, so I'd like it back when you get the chance. I've read a few of the chapters; it has every magical inventor, big name politician, and master sorcerer in this hemisphere for the last thousand years. There are a few other volumes for earlier millennia down in my library. Even a few, who didn't become famous, just became really powerful and went nowhere. Those chapters are usually short. Did you know that the Yank who gave civilians electricity, Mr Franklin, was a headmaster at Salem institute for 30 years after he faked his death in the civilian world?"

Hermione brightened at that and the pair descended into conversation, happily passing the trip talking about things they had learned and how it might be possible. The rest of the trip passed quietly, blessedly free of interruptions. Outside the window the world became slowly darker until a voice hummed from all around them. "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

Eric snorted and placed his hand on his trunk, closing, locking and shrinking it. He put it back in his pocket and followed Hermione out of the compartment. They exited into a mill of students on the back most platforms. Seeing most of the students heading for a line of carriages pulled by black horses he started to follow when there was a bellow, like the voice of a giant.

"Firs yers! Or 'ere, firs yers!" turning to the call Eric found he was not far off.

Seeing Hermione beside him still, her own mouth agape again, he nudged her. "Is that a giant?"

Hermione shook her head rigorously. "No giants are 15 to 20 feet tall, he's only 12. I suppose he could be a runt, but he's probably something else. I thought I'd read about every magical creature already. I'm gonna have to visit the library first chance I get."

"Allo,'arry!" the enormous man thundered as they passed by. "'ave a pleasant trip?"

"It was great, Hagrid." Harry returned from behind Eric's shoulder.

"Righ'," the man rumbled "Any more firs yer's? Tha' all a yah? This way ter the boats!"

The man turned around and stumped off, disturbingly graceful for such a large man. "That's Hagrid?" Eric asked Harry quietly, seeing him nod. "No wonder he looks after the schools magical game. He's so big none of them could bother him!" He turned to Hermione. "When Deputy Headmistress McGonagall came to deliver my letter she told me Hagrid, that man, was in charge of the care and maintenance of the school's magical game preserve. Said I should go to him if I had any questions about magical creatures." Eric explained. "I think she also wanted me to stop asking so many questions." He finished with a smirk as they stepped into a boat.

Like soft thunder they heard the games keeper speaking again. "Ery one in a boat! Hurry up, no more'n four ter a boat!" he said as he took the furthest one all to himself. "Ery one settled? FORWARD!"

The boats took off silently, moving of their own accord. After a couple of seconds Hagrid spoke again. "Jus a sec an you'll ge yer firs glance at 'ogwarts!" he rumbled, and sure enough as the rounded the bend the trees cleared to reveal the castle in all its glory, against the dying purple and orange light of evening. The stars were peeking their way out of most of the heavens and gave the whole scene a distinctly magical feeling to it. Turrets soared above the cliff on which the castle sat and Eric could swear he saw waves of multicolored light wafting around the building like an aurora borealis. _This is everything a magic school's supposed to be_, he thought in wonder.

"Watch yer heads!" came the quiet bass of Hagrid's voice as the cliffs loomed near them. Instead of running ashore and taking some hidden stairs up as Eric has expected they passed under a large hanging growth of vines that covered most of the cliff side and passed into a low cavern. When the boats did run aground it was on a pebbled shore beside a set of stairs. As everyone got out the doors at the top of the short steps opened to reveal Professor McGonagall.

"The first yers as, Professor." The giant rumbled.

The stern looking witch nodded, her emerald robes shifting with the motion. "Thank you Hagrid, I'll take charge of them now." She said crisply. "Follow me." She said, and they did. McGonagall led them up the stairs and into a massive hall with a vaulted roof and two enormous wooden doors. Hagrid stepped past them and through the doors which opened shortly to reveal the drone of hundreds of voices. The dining hall, Eric assumed.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Eric met the stern teacher's eyes and smiled. She gave him a barely perceptible nod and continued to survey the other students for several moments.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

Immediately after the professor disappeared the crowd descended into frenzied conversation, trying to determine what the sorting would be. Eric considered quietly, taking amusement from the antics of his friends as they stood on either side of him. Ron and Harry were discussing the possibility of fighting a troll, something one of Ron's twin brothers had apparently assured him was the trial. Hermione on the other hand was reciting all of the spells she'd memorized, in a desperate whisper and practicing wand movements. She was going to Ravenclaw, he was certain of it. It would be nice to have a friendly face when he got there.

Eric himself was slightly nervous as well, though he refused to show it openly. He'd always felt calmest when performing for a crowd so he decided to practice one of his flashier moves. He was still struggling with it and he was far from being able to use it practically but it should be enough to impress any judge they could throw at a novice. Closing his eyes he began the breathing exercises he used to bring out his magic. As he concentrated on the suggested paths from his novels Eric pushed and opened his eyes to the soft whump of a miniature fireball igniting.

Eric grinned. The civilians loved this one. He'd had to explain it to them as chemical gloves and gas nozzles hidden under his sleeves, but the few times he'd used it had brought in a lot of coin. There was a scream and Eric looked up to see a number of Ghosts coming out of a wall arguing about something. Shocked, he lost control of the fireball causing it to fizzle out, unnoticed by all but Hermione.

_Huh,_ Eric thought, _ghosts are real then._ It was not a comforting thought. While the specters' existence was definitive proof of an immortal soul, something no priest had ever been able to provide him, Eric had read too many stories about the angry nature of souls who chose to stick around as ghosts. That there were no less than four of them arguing about something was definite cause for panic.

Eric relaxed as the ghosts noticed the presence of the students and greeted them cheerily, almost like doting grandparents. He heaved a sigh of relief as professor McGonagall came back in. "The sorting's about to start, come along. Form a line."

The doors opened once more to a cacophony of sound. As the marched down the center of four long wooden tables Eric fidgeted nervously, what if he failed? What if the test was really one of those cruel boarding school initiation pranks he'd heard about, or they took his spells and made him look the fool? The stopped in front of the staff table, facing the four rows of students. Between them and the rest of the school stood a wooden stool and a ratty, badly patched leather witches hat. Eric looked at the Hat, confused, when a seam near the brim tore itself open and the hat started to sing.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

It was the oddest thing he had ever heard and Eric could not help laughing as he clapped along with everyone else. So they put on a hat and it counseled them through their sorting. He wondered briefly if it spoke to them or used a professional version of his mindscape spell. He watched with interest as student after student passed by. Some were sorted quickly, barely having time for the enormous hat to fall over their heads, others took time, His bookish friend Hermione for one took nearly 10 minutes before the hat cried out her house. He spent much of that time whispering Ravenclaw under his breath, only to feel a biting disappointment when she became bound for Gryffindor.

_Oh-well,_ he thought, _it's not as if I can't follower her_ he mused silently. _If anything this proves that having the qualities of multiple houses is expected and something, probably her obvious sense of duty, won out_. _I can be brave,_ he assured himself,_ given a reason._

Eric watched on as students continued their trek through the hat to the house tables with only minor interest. Longbottom was another student of interest; the poor kid looked a mess as he was sorted into Hufflepuff. Eric nodded firmly, hopefully the other kid could find some proper happiness there. Real friends, if the hat was right, to show him that regular attempts at murder were not something done by those who really cared about you.

He watched nervously as Harry's name was called and his second friend went up to be sorted. He crossed his fingers as the boy sat there for several minutes, waiting for something. He was taking even longer than Hermione. Eventually the hat cried out Gryffindor and the hall went wild. The two boys he'd met earlier, Fred and George Weasley, were up on their table dancing and making a big deal of their having gotten Harry.

_Gryffindor it is then _he thought, determinedly. All of his other friends were already there and he would be too if he had anything to say about it.

"Stark, Eric." McGonagall called crisply. He walked forward and plopped the hat on his head, letting it fall till it sat firmly on his head. Eric tried to stop himself, he really did, but his first thought as the old patchwork settled over his head was _man this thing stinks._

A presence skittered across the borders of his mind and Eric felt a pronounced sense of irritation. '_well that's one way to go about influencing people, Mr. Stark. Though I must admit, yours in one of the most interesting minds I've ever had the pleasure of sorting. Would you mind opening the door, or should I make my own way in?_'

Eric began his breathing exercises and fell quickly into the mindscape. Appearing in the house he opened the door and let the hat in. The hat itself was an interesting figure, adult but shifting randomly and even piecemeal between four different figures, two male and another two female of widely varying builds. The figure went to one of the walls where a portrait appeared before it automatically and began flashing through his life at an amazing rate.

"Hmm," the 'sorting hat' murmured. "Quite brave, but only when the mood strikes you, probably wouldn't be best to put you in Gryffindor. You've a work ethic Helga would be proud of and a fierce loyalty waiting for those who gain your trust, but you're too naturally suspicious to ever be a Hufflepuff, though the house would do you well. I see a strong mind as well, you prefer to think your way out of problems; an admirable trait for any house, and well suited for both the Raven and Snake. You have a Slytherin's lust for power, but view knowledge as both the source and goal of that particular quest. I see you as best suited to the house of the Raven, but I sense you have some conflict about that?"

Eric nodded slowly. "I've wanted Ravenclaw since I first read about the houses, it's the most noble of the four as far as I'm concerned, but all of the friends I've managed so far are headed for Gryffindor. I don't suppose I could convince you otherwise on my sorting?"

"Of course I can be swayed in my decision." The hat said, laughing bitterly. "How do you think so many get sorted as soon as I'm close enough to enter their minds? From the little I saw of young Malfoy's mind he'd do the best in Hufflepuff, he's a hard worker and blindly loyal to his chosen cause. Classic Puff, but his mind was so focused on the desire to be Slytherin that there was nowhere else to place him." The Hat explained. "Your friend Hermione is another good example. She's reasonably brave, but by and large is rather ill-suited to being a Gryffindor and I told her as such. She'd have been far happier in Ravenclaw but argued her own way."

Eric stayed silent for several moments, weighing the options. He could go to a house he was unsuited but unopposed to and be with his friends, or go to the house where he would fit in, possibly making new friends and growing to his potential. He felt torn and began going in circles when the Hat spoke again.

"You wouldn't be in any way barred from having friends outside of your house. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are accepted in all four house common rooms, whereas Gryffindor and Slytherin suffer a bitter rivalry." He perked up slightly at that and nodded. "Well, I hope to see you grow in RAVENCLAW!" The hat said, shouting the last word to the rest of the hall and retreating from Eric's mind. Removing the hat with a flourish Stark placed it back on the stool and quickly walked off to the table that was clapping the loudest.

As he sat down Eric closed his eyes and concentrated, pushing an image into the chameleon enchantments and turning the accents on oh his robes and the Hogwarts insignia to match the rest of the house of the Raven and the sorting continued. Next up was an Asian girl with her hair in a low braid named Su Li. She stayed on the stool a little under a minute before being sorted into Ravenclaw. Eric smiled a little as she plopped down beside him.

"Hi, I'm Eric" he said brightly, holding out his hand.

"Su." She said. "How did you make that fire ball there in the hall? I thought they didn't teach wandless magic in Europe."

Eric's eyes widened and he grinned. "I'm self-taught. Lived on the streets for a while and I had to make money somehow, so I forced my accidental magic to become intentional. I didn't even know about magical society till a few weeks ago."

"Oh" she said. "Mom says her old school taught those spells in third year." She held her hand just under the table between them and Eric looked down to watch as lightning started jumping between her thumb and fingers. "I've already started, see? It's wicked draining though. Kaa-san says wand magic will make it a lot easier. A simpler focus and all that."

Eric grinned widely, completely missing as Ron Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor, his wide eyes completely focused on Su. "Want to trade notes after classes?"

The girl looked at him considering and then nodded, taking his offered hand with a smile. "Sure."

"Miss Li, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

The ponytailed girl giggled, letting go of his hand.

Shortly after Zabini, Blaise was sorted into Slytherin and Professor McGonagall took away the hat. She wasn't gone for more than a moment when Dumbledore stood from his seat at the high table. The hall quickly grew silent and everybody turned to look at him expectantly. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" He sat back down and everybody clapped and cheered.

Eric on the other hand stared at the high table, his brow twitching occasionally. "He's mad as a box o' frogs." Eric said as the smells of food started to tickle his nose.

"That's exactly what he wants you to think." An older student across from him said. "Now pass those rolls and stop talking." Eric glared at him and levitated the rolls in front of the boy. The boy looked a bit shocked, but visibly restrained himself. "It's house policy, due to the nature of our typical students if we don't enforce silence at the table most of us will never get to eat because we'll spend the whole time arguing the ins and outs of one subject or another." He explained, snatching the rolls out of the air and placing several on his plate. "But don't think we aren't going to have a long discussion about this when we get up the common room." He said, pointing his fork at the still flying basket of dinner rolls.

Eric nodded and started serving himself. It made a strange sort of sense, smart people liked to talk and you could carry on more involved conversations with someone who was on your level. With a whole house full of people just dying to go into lecture mode mealtime would all to quickly get eaten up should they be allowed to do so. With that in mind he quickly started serving himself from a steaming haunch of some dark meat that passed in front of him and called for the mashed potatoes.

When the meal finished nearly two hours later Eric was licking a spoon of ice cream and feeling bloated. It was quite the meal and he was slightly worried he was going to throw up from the sheer amount he'd ingested which would be a real pity. It wasn't often he'd seen this much food, let-alone been able to eat his fill.

The Hall suddenly got silent and Eric looked up, the sudden cease of conversation somehow much louder than the constant buzz. Up at the high table the plum robed professor, Dumbledore he remembered, had stood up from his throne. As soon as he was certain everyone was silent he raised his arms and spoke.

"Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Next, quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Murmuring filled the hall at that pronouncement. That a school of magic would be dangerous was simply a given Eric reasoned worriedly, but for a hallway to suddenly become fatal? There was certainly something unusual going on here and the older students' reactions only helped to reinforce that notion. Eric vowed to find the library at his soonest opportunity, this was a proper magic school after all, perhaps they'd have a way of divining what dangers lurked on the third floor.

Eric was interrupted in his thoughts by the headmaster calling for the school to sing a song. He sat there, bemused, as a jarring cacophony of voices screeched, howled, warbled and otherwise pretended to sing the schools alma-mater to a hundred different tunes and beats. It was patently horrible, but as everyone else quieted down to finish off with Gred and Forge Weasley drumming out the final verses at a funeral dirge even he found the urge to laugh.

After the twins finished Dumbledore dismissed them and prefects started herding their first years to the dormitories' for the first time. Penelope Clearwater, their new fifth year prefect, led them west from the great hall and up several flights of stairs to the fifth floor. The moved down a corridor for a few minutes before the older girl stopped by an arch way and turned to the 11 of them.

"There won't be enough room for all of you to hear or see," she said, her voice soft and clear, "but the entrance to our common room is through this stairwell. There is no door, only a bronze door knocker. To enter the common room you must use it and answer the riddle. Fail to do so and you will be locked out until someone comes along who is capable."

With that she turned and proceeded up the stone steps. Eric followed her from the front of the group, wanting to see the door's mechanism at work. As he ascended he noted that the stair wouldn't fit more than one person at a time, _probably to keep people from helping each other out with their riddle_ he mused. Reaching the top of the tight spiral Eric blushed as he found his nose only inches from the older blond's rear. Leaning against the wall, as much to remove himself from a potentially embarrassing situation as from curiosity about the door, Eric watched as the prefect grabbed the brass ring hanging from the mouth of a brass eagle and let it drop with a deep, unnaturally loud, thud. As the sound reverberated through the wall the eagle came to life.

"Miss Clearwater, welcome back." The bird intoned, its voice tinny. "Your riddle. Voiceless cries, wingless flutters, toothless bites and mouthless mutters. What is it?"

"Wind." She answered primly, apparently familiar with such games.

The common room was a large circular space with three levels, a pit interspersed with blue velvet couches and tables, a ring like main floor and a balcony of marble and rich golden-brown wood. The walls, covered with bookcases, were broken by numerous large, arched bay windows complete with bronze drapes and plush blue velvet window seats. The ceiling, which appeared to be domed, displayed a breathtakingly clear view of the stars and moon outside.

_It's beautiful_, Eric thought breathlessly. _You never had a view like this in Belfast_.

Eric came back to earth as Penelope directed them to a grouping of couches near the center of the room. There were a lot of people still in the common room and as they found themselves seats many of the older students began whispering and pointing. Their guide studiously ignored this and began her introductions.

"Welcome, first years" she said, sitting down in a lone, wing backed armchair. "and congratulation on being sorted into Ravenclaw, the most intelligent, quirky and competitive of the four houses." The platinum blond grinned for a moment, "believe me" she said "The Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry has nothing on us come exam time. In this house we value three things, achievement, individuality and privacy. As you can see along the walls the Airy, as we call our common room, has an extensive library covering literally anything you might want to study." She pointed to the balcony over their heads. "From the overlook aspiring brewers can access a fully equipped potions lab. Be careful not to disturb anyone else's work though, numerous portraits provide security and expertise of previous generations, but any tampering will see you banned from the room for the remainder of the year. There are also shielded dueling platforms for our more adventurous students, that room's also good for studying the practical side of your various classes as many ravens have found that while academics come easily to us, the practicalities of magic require a bit more attention to perfect. On the other side is a large music room and complementary art studio for the more artistically inclined and the hanging gardens for anyone wishing to get ahead in Herbology."

She paused a short while; while the new students absorbed this information before continuing. "at the back of the common room you will find a statue of our founder, Lady Rowena Ravenclaw. The spiral stair directly behind her leads to the dormitories. Lights out occurs promptly at 10PM, if you are caught making a ruckus in any of the rooms after that expect to find yourself on the fast track to detention.

Now that's out of the way, introductions. I'm Penelope Clearwater, your resident fifth year prefect. I received last year's top marks for fourth year and enjoy experimenting with ancient runes. Anthony Goldstien, you're first."

The boy she pointed to was a taller boy with blond hair and dark blue eyes. "Umm, right. I'm Anthony…"

The blond first year cut off suddenly as the boy Eric had met at dinner stepped into the circle of couches and jabbed his wand at Goldstien. "You lot can do your introductions later, you'll have seven years to get used to each other. I, and the rest of the house, want to know how that one levitated those rolls at the feast without using his wand." The boy said challengingly.

Penelope glared at him and turned to the rest of them. "This is Jack Turner" she told them, a disgusted look on her face. "He is my alternate number and should have assisted me in leading you up here." Eric looked at him for several moments, his brow furrowed as he took in the information. Now that they were away from the table the boy looked REALLY tall; probably six feet to his four, and lean, though it was hard to tell what people really concealed beneath these baggy school robes.

"A wand is a tool." Eric said after a while. "A means to an end, but not the end itself. Didn't you ever do magic before you got your wand? Stuff happening simply because you wanted it to when you were scared or angry?" Eric looked around to see many of the older students nodding to each other in apparent understanding, even excitedly whispering things to one another as he made his statement.

One boy at the corner of his vision stepped forward with a rebuttal. "I used to be able to do things like that." He said, his tow head at shoulder height to the girl next to him. "Even into my second year I could make plants bloom and grow by touching them." Eric nodded back in satisfaction as several people nodded, giving some small credence to the story. "But it's gone away since then, I can't even make a daisy bloom anymore."

Another one, a girl this time came forward with a similar story, about being able to play with fire, but losing it after she got her wand. Story after story came forward, most of them he would later find out were muggleborns, but they all ended with losing their powers after they got their first wand. Usually the next day.

Eric pondered this, would he too lose his hard-won abilities? He didn't want to, but the evidence seemed compelling. He looked back up at the first boy and while his eyes seemed disturbed, the boy's face was still smug. Looking down Eric thought for a moment. He'd have to talk to the others individually later, but he was sure they were missing something important. Their magic was a part of them, they could use it before they gained their wands, use of a tool shouldn't strip them of their powers.

"Wait." He said as the crowd started break up. "Didn't any of you have more than one power?" he asked. "I'm fairly sure I'm not unique, but I've been actively using dozens of spells for more than four years. Maybe it's a problem of how you do it?"

Jack scoffed, but turned back with the others. The curly black haired girl who'd professed to be a pyro-kinetic stepped forward again and told him that it simply came naturally to them. She wanted things to burn and they had. Most of them were like that. "But didn't you ever try to get control of it? Read books, learn meditation, and make your own spells?"

"Medi what?" asked a voice behind him. Eric turned to see Penelope Clearwater standing behind him, confusion written plain on her face.

"Med-i-ta-tion." He pronounced. "It's the art of thought. The ability to calm yourself and look for answers within. It's how I found my magical core and integral to my casting."

A look of comprehension donned on the prefect's face and she whirled on the boy who had challenged him, babbling excitedly. "He means oclumancy! I read about it in the library last year, It's a branch of magic dealing with the mind! I mean, most of the book dealt with protecting yourself from the magic's opposite number, Legillimancy, but it was hinted that the magic was far older than the use of wands and that skilled legilimens only need eye contact to work the spell. This could be what he meant."

Eric suddenly focused on Penelope, his gaze intense. "This occlumancy, have you done it? What's it like? I know what I do, but what's the professional version like?"

"I do believe that's quite enough, young Mr. Stark" came a squeaky voice from the stairwell "It's getting late and you all have a full day ahead of you tomorrow." The house looked around and parted before the diminutive creature that was professor Flitwick. The gnome like professor was smiling brightly, but there was a distinct air of authority around him that seemed to demand obedience. "We wouldn't want our Ravens to start of the year badly because you were up all night like the Gryffindors? Off to bed with the lot of you. It's already 1126, shoo."

Shortly after the crowd broke up and filed up the stairs towards the male and female dorms.

At the top of the boy's stairs there was a small circular atrium with seven doors, a number above each. Eric followed the other first year boys into the door marked 1. Behind the door was a fair sized room with a couch and further bookcase. Eric had to smile. Wit and knowledge indeed, he thought. As if claws had a chance to be anything else… you could hardly turn around without hitting another bookshelf.

Eric looked around, confused for a second by the lack of beds in their 'dormitory' before noticing that the room had six doors. Moving to one he opened it to reveal a small room with a queen sized four poster bed, nightstand and desk bookshelf combo. Backing out of the room Eric turned to the other boys. After a few minutes one of them stepped forward.

"Hi." Said the freckled brunette, shaking each of the boys hands in turn. "I'm Terry Boot. Pity abou us not bein able to get propa interductions dunstairs." He said stifling a yawn and grinning sheepishly. Having taken Terry's initiative as a signal the boys all shook hands and introduced themselves. The blond from earlier, Anthony Goldstien and interested in charms; Kevin Entwhistle was most looking forward to herbology. Michael Corner, a tall pale boy with long black hair and Steven Cornfoot, a brunette, were already budding potioniers.

Then it was his turn. "Well, um. I'm an orphan." He said scratching the back of his head. "I lived on the streets of Belfast for a while and I ran a magic show to keep myself fed, so I'll probably be our charms guru." He said shrugging and conjuring two balls of light in his hands.

The boys stared at him for several moments before Michael spoke. "You've got to teach me how to do that, mate." He said reverently.

Eric grinned. He had a good feeling about this school.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Eric stirred awake as he heard a door near him open. It hadn't been the first time he'd woken since he'd claimed this room last night, if you lived on the streets being a heavy sleeper was liable to get you killed if you didn't have a saints luck.

Pulling a small bag out of his pocket he stuck his arm into it, much farther than the dimensions should have allowed and pulled out a Rolex he'd stolen the day of McGonagall's arrival. Reading 7:19 Eric's grey eyes widened. He'd been out for nearly eight hours straight, barring minute interruptions; he hadn't been able to rest like that since he was five!

Shaking his head the young stark jumped out of bed and began stretching. It may not be important to be limber anymore, what with how his life had turned around, but it was habit. Pulling a muscle when you're running from thugs made for short reprieves and nastier rolls.

His calisthenics done, Eric headed for the bathroom. Once there he brought his magic to the surface and wiped away the detritus of sleep with a wave of plum light. Reasonably cleaned and groomed he headed down for breakfast. It wasn't hard to find the great hall, just head for the ground floor and listen for the sound of chaos. As he arrived and began to load his tray the blond prefect, Penelope if he remembered right, was walking down the table handing out schedules.

"Thank you Miss Clearwater." Stark said as she passed him, dropping his time table beside his plate.

"Penny, please." She said pleasantly as she continued down the line. "Hearing my last name makes me look around for a professor."

He chuckled lightly and nodded. "As you wish, Penny." Turning back to his plate Eric began loading his plate. Eating slowly, for him, the new claw examined at his schedule. All of the classes were in the morning, which was nice, though it seemed a little off to him. He may not have been to formal classes since first grade, but he was certain classes normally went all day. Yesterday would have been double potions with Hufflepuff, Today and Thursday were Charms and then Transfiguration with the Gryffindor's, Tomorrow offered History of Magic and Herbology with Slytherin and Friday would be double Defense with the Puffs again.

Committing the page to memory Eric finished his plate and checked his watch. He still had half an hour till class started. Shrugging he summoned some buttered toast from down the table and layered it around a generous amount of beautifully cooked bacon and walked up the table, looking for a suitably friendly older student. Deciding on a carrot top who looked to be 16 he politely asked for directions to the transfiguration classroom. He had time, sure, but the castle was large and he expected to get lost a few times over the course of the week. Instead of directions the boy showed him a spell to assist him in navigating unfamiliar areas.

"Transfiguration classroom, **point me**." He said, shaking his head in amazement as the wand rose from his palm and pointed itself up and to the left. He set off in the direction indicated and, after getting turned around twice, found the marked class room with 15 minutes to spare. The spell wasn't perfect, as the older boy had explained, in that it couldn't find you anything but so long as you knew exactly what you were looking for when you cast the spell your wand would act as a reliable guide to just about anywhere and saying the words without a target would cause it to act as a compass.

Seeing no one save a tabby cat in the Room he summoned _The beginners guide to transfiguration_ by_ Emeric Switch_ and started reading. He'd already memorized the book, but it was still quite fascinating, containing many illustrations of elaborate magic circles used for each type of transformation and little lines coming off of various parts and explaining how it affects the outcome and wand movements. He was halfway through rereading the first chapter when Hermione entered, trailing Harry and Ron. Eric got up and went over to sit with them, meeting and trading glares with Ron as he took up a seat on the far side of the trio by Hermione. They began discussing things as the rest of class filtered into the room.

"Where's the teacher?" Hermione asked Eric quietly as the start of class bell rang.

"I dunno," he replied "but I think that might be her ca…" the long haired boy was cut off as said "cat" leapt off the teachers' desk and became their elderly professor.

"Good morning, students." McGonagall said crisply. "It's refreshing to see an entire roster that's on time." She finished, a slight twitch at the edge of her mouth. She promptly turned her desk onto an enormous sow and back, causing the class to gasp in wonder and launched into her speech.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts." She said in her quiet, carrying voice. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." The wizened woman paused for several moments while the class let that little sentiment settle before speaking again.

"Now," the tall brunette professor continued crisply, clapping her hands together once "How many of you have read the text?"

Eric, Hermione and several of the Ravenclaw students raised their hands and McGonagall's thin line of a mouth took on a predatory look. "Well, then. Since not everyone can be trusted to do their reading, quills and parchment everyone! Copy this down." The professor finished crisply. She tapped her wand on the blackboard which quickly covered itself with complicated diagrams and notes from the book and launched into a lecture on the basics of transfiguration.

Eric sighed and closed his eyes, slipping into his mindscape as fast as he could. Opening the door to the void where he'd first found his power he pulled out a small mote of the violet fire and shaped it. Opening his eyes again he kept hold of the power and used it to summon a spiral ringed note pad and BIC pen from his trunk and got to work. Hermione kept glancing at him all throughout the lecture, shooting him looks he couldn't decipher all through class until the professor came around handing them Match sticks to turn into needles.

Eric looked at his match for several minutes before raising his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Stark?" the green robed professor asked, a hint of trepidation in her voice.

"Does this spell have uses beyond turning match sticks into needles?" He asked. "I'm not trying to be rude, but it seems like a waste of a spell if that's all it does."

Minerva had the urge to massage her temples, but valiantly resisted. She'd known the boy was going to be a handful from the first, but the question was a good one. "A very astute question, Mr. Stark." she returned. "The spell I just gave you is a simple beginners transfiguration for turning simple living mater into metal. In this case a wooden matchstick into a steel needle. The reason for the material and the goal of the exercise is due to the similarity between them allows the mind to more easily associate the two objects and handle changing the properties from one to another. For example, you could use this same spell to change a ball of yarn into copper wire or change your food into tin blocks, though I can't imagine a reason you would want to do either." She glanced around the room, taking in all the heads turned their way. "What are you waiting for? Copy that down and get to work on your transfigurations. Anyone who doesn't finish the exercise will have four feet of parchment explaining the spell for me by the start of class next week."

As the words left her mouth there was a flurry of activity and the sound of quills scratching on parchment. The professor was about to return to her desk when he glanced down at Eric's desk space. McGonagall sighed. "Mr. Stark," she said, her voice quiet and exasperated "What, pray tell, are you writing on?"

Eric looked up at her, nearly finished with transcribing her explanation onto the white pad. "Civilian writing pad and pen. I had some trouble learning to use quill and parchment. The skins keep rolling up, keeping my lines straight and uniform was a nightmare, ink would fly off the quill as I wrote, the ink well would occasionally fall over. I gave up. Civilian writing implements were just simpler. They're cheaper, easier to use, easier to learn and nowhere near as messy." He paused for several moments and then grimaced. "I can't see why you wouldn't approve, professor. After all, with the lines on the paper I can't just cheat my out of four feet of homework by writing big." Not that I intend to get that homework, he thought smugly.

"Very well, Mr. Stark." the wizened Scott replied, walking away. "Five points to Ravenclaw for insight and forethought during class."

As their teacher returned to her desk Eric reviewed his notes for the spells pronunciations and wand movements and went to work. It was surprisingly difficult work and took him nearly half an hour to figure out the correct balance of focus, power and wand work to complete the transformation. Not wanting to disturb the professor Eric summoned a dozen more matches from the front desk without getting up and went to work getting familiar with the spell, first with his wand and then without it. His wand was a useful tool without a doubt and he was sure, having used it now, that it would have taken him a lot more work to learn the spell without it, but he was afraid of becoming reliant on it. He didn't want to end up like those other kids in Ravenclaw, having his powers suddenly drying up, leaving him vulnerable and having spent six years of his life for nothing.

Eric was working on his twelfth needle, and fourth wandless, when he noticed a hand reaching across the corner of his space to pluck a match from his pile. He followed the hand back to its bushy haired owner and the three perfect needles sitting before her. Hermione noticed his looking and raised a delicate brow at him when he met her gaze. Stark chuckled and looked down the table to where Harry and Ron were struggling with their own matches. Deciding to earn some brownie points Eric stood up and walked around to kneel in front of their desks, his arms crossed and resting on the space between them, his chin settled on his arms.

"What do you want?" Ron snarled, jabbing his wand at his match again, forcing the slightly silvered wood to become pointy on either end.

Eric stretched his neck to look at Harry's near perfect wooden needle. "I was wondering if either of you would like help." He said, holding up a match and morphing it into a needle before their eyes. Ron growled and turned away from him, jabbing his wand at his own match more forcefully than before. Harry gave Ron a long suffering look and nodded.

"No harm in it I guess." Harry allowed.

"Show me what you're doing." Stark instructed his friend as his eyes glazed over in trance.

The long haired boy watched as his scarred friend performed the physical aspects of the spell better than he himself had before focusing on the energy issuing from his friends wand. Where the power flowing from his and Hermione's wands were like a stream of water, the threads of energy being expelled from the holly wand looked more like a mist. "More power."

Harry looked at him, confused. "Err, what?"

"Your casting is fine," Eric said, coming out of his fugue state and refocusing on his friend "better than mine even if I'm any judge. The problem is you aren't putting enough power into it, which is kind of odd since your core is brighter than mine." He continued, gesturing down at Harry's perfectly formed wooden needle. "How's your focus, are you pushing your magic to respond?"

Harry looked into his friends grey eyes, confused. "I'm just saying the words and waving my wand." He replied. "There's more?" The green eyes closed in thought for several moments before opening again. "Oh." The BWL cast the spell again and the needle turned a shiny silver.

Eric smiled and handed him another. This one too, became a needle in short order. "Thanks, Eric."

"Any time." The two orphans grinned at each other.

"So what's wrong with Ron's casting?" Harry asked pointedly, deciding his other friend would likely be to stubborn to accept help. It pained him to see his friends at odds, but it couldn't be helped… for now at least.

The dark red haired boy rolled his eyes. "Exaggerated movements and bad pronunciation. His power's good, as evidenced by the silvering of his match, but small changes use small movements. McGonagall explained that during the lecture earlier."

The carrot top turned to him, mouth open to say something when the bell rang, signaling the end of class. About half of the students had managed their transformations when the professor came around and checked. The rest, including Ron, received the promised four feet of parchment.

**_1234567890987654321_**

Charms class was next. Aside from Flitwick hopping in excitement at Harry's name and falling off his pile of books it was a fairly calm period. They learned the teeth cleaning charm and as homework received a pamphlet detailing several dozen small personal charms, from tying shoe laces, to clearing mats from ones hair. Eric almost discarded the pamphlet but a pointed look from Flitwick stopped him and he was glad it had. While significantly more complicated than his all in one brute force approach to on demand cleanliness, the spells they had been given in class cost him a bare fraction the power for the same effect.

Free of homework, at least for the day, Eric decided to follow up on Professor M's suggestion from their first meeting and search out the game keeper, Rubeus Hagrid.

Hagrid, as it turned out, lived on a hut down off the main slope of the castle bluff. Nestled against the tree line of the forbidden forest Hagrid's house was built like the hut of a Viking villager Eric had read about in the many fantasy books at the midtown soup kitchen. Beside it was a small garden filled with assorted vegetables and herbs, the civilian variety, and a sizable patch of oversized pumpkins. It looked homey, in a rustic camper sort of way.

Shrugging the young boy walked up to the 15 foot door and knocked. A split second later Stark leapt back as the door slammed against the frame, sounds of frantic scratching and barking rattling the wooden slab from the other side.

"**Back, Fang! Back! Move out of the way y'mangy mutt!**"

Shortly the door stopped rattling and opened to reveal the giant man, Hagrid, in all his bushy bearded glory.

"Er…" Eric said, slightly less certain than he had been before. "Hello, sir."

Hagrid looked down on him for a moment, scratching his chest slowly thought the canvas tent that made his shirt. "**Eh? I dun mean ter be rude,**" the man rumbled "**but who are ye?**"

"I'm Stark, sir. Eric Sirius Stark. Professor McGonagall said you were the person to talk to if I wanted to know about magical creatures or the Dark Forrest Preserves."

"**Di' she naw?**" the man mountain rumbled, a smile splitting his bushy face. "**Come in, come in.**" he said, stepping out of the way. "**Not offin I gets visitors dun here.**" He continued, as he offered Eric a pot of tea. The boy accepted and was handed a large ale tankard filled with the steaming brew. Briefly tapping it with his finger the auburn haired boy judged it to be too hot to drink and summoned a mote of power to cool it down. Taking a sip he nodded and complimented the giant on the drink.

"**So, Eric was it?**"

"Yes, sir."

"**We got lots o' beasts in der forest.**" The half giant rumbled pleasantly. "**What yu wanna know?**"

Eric grinned and placed his elbow on the table. "Tell me everything."

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Hermione granger walked into the main Hogwarts library, a determined look on her face. Gryffindor tower had a library of sorts, but it was a small sad little room not much better than a broom closet with a few rows of badly used schoolbooks left over from previous students. It make her heart clench just to think of the poor treatment those books had received and what their owners must have been like.

_I wonder what Ravenclaw Tower is like_ she mused quietly as she approached the main desk and its lone, venerable, librarian. "Ma'am." She asked, her voice clear and quiet. When the birdlike woman looked up from her book to meet her gaze Hermione continued. "Do you have any books on wandless magic?" she a0iokl;m,.sked politely.

"That's highly advanced magic, dear." Madam Pince replied, looking sharply at her customer. "Do you have a note?"

"A note?" she asked, confused.

"Books on particularly advanced or dangerous knowledge are placed in the restricted section." The severe woman explained, pursing her lips. "Come back when you have a note from a professor."

Hermione looked momentarily downcast. "But Ma'am Pince, one of my friends regularly does wandless magic. He offered to teach me; I just want to read up on the subject so I can have a better idea of what he's talking about. It sounds so fascinating!"

"…I'm sorry dear. If your friend's teaching you I'm sure you can convince a professor to give you a note, but until then I cannot give you any tomes on the restricted list." The librarian said with an air of finality.

Frowning and hurt at her first time being denied a book from any librarian, they were usually so helpful, the bushy haired girl stalked off. She would find an answer to the conundrum that was her first willing friend some other way.

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Dumbledore ran his hand along the runes engraved into the wall of the final trap, examining them for errors as he watched Severus finish composing his riddle. It was a rather genius piece of work the man had dreamed up. Due to the common mode of thought that wizards lived and thus taught by few beyond himself retained any skill for deductive reasoning, preferring more static means of learning such as rote memorization that quashed such impulses. Anyone who was able to get this far would have the utterly wrong mindset to make it past this final trap. He chuckled to himself as he reread the riddle and points behind its construction from his potions professors mind.

It was almost criminal; and that wasn't even taking into consideration what he himself was planning on doing once he could drag that crusted old mirror out of the castles vaults.

Patience to calm the savage beast, cool decisive thought to escape the grasping dark, a thief's eye and agility to open the path, the tacticians ruthlessness to forge ahead, the brutes determination to break through, and the detectives reason to escape. No one had all of these, not even Tom. Add on top of that an artist's flair for abstract thought and the stone would be safe even from his old mentor Nickolas.

Walking into the final room he ran a hand through his beard and considered. A thousand years ago when the castle had been built the founders had used this hall for ritual spells to powerful for the wands or other primitive foci of the time. As such the room was heavily warded and enchanted against spell damage so should an infiltrator be able to get in they should be locked within until he came for them. He briefly wondered if he should add his own protections and ward traps to the room but discarded the notion. Adding seals and wards to an existing matrix without an in-depth study was a fast and dirty way for any powerful mage to commit suicide.

The Headmaster left the room and proceeded to recheck the fire traps and ensure that the fireproofing potions would wear off quickly and were mutually exclusive. Once he felt confident everything was in order he activated them and directing his Potions master to precede him outside, leaving a fist sized ruby red gem lying on a pedestal behind him. Now all he had to do was find and restore a mirror.

**_1234567890987654321_**

It was dark out when Eric left the gamekeepers company and returned to the castle. He'd spent the entire afternoon talking to the enormous man and was quite satisfied with how he'd spent his time. It was fascinating just how close civilian folklore often came to the real thing. Oh, there were differences, certainly, and those had captured his imagination as well, but what everything the oversized gamekeeper had told him had really done was serve to make Eric determined to build his own menagerie as soon as he got the time. That wasn't even taking into consideration the potential for profit that came with careful handling of such pets.

Checking his watch again Eric sighed, he was sure he'd missed dinner at this point. Stopping by the great hall he confirmed that it was indeed empty and foodless. Pulling out his wand he did the point me spell, asking for the kitchens. The wand pointed straight down, beneath the great hall. His face fell. It made a sorcerous kind of sense. Maze like castle, teleport spells, kitchen beneath the great hall.

Deciding he was still hungry he went for the closest downward staircase. After wandering around for near 30 minutes he saw a pair of fiery heads heading down a corridor to the right. Following them he saw that it was the Weasley twins, Gred and Forge if he remembered. They stopped in front of an enormous portrait of a bowl of fruit and scratched the pear. A grin spread across the long haired boys face as it giggled and became a large green handle.

Recasting the point me spell he confirmed that the kitchen was in the right direction and rushed forward to repeat the entrance. Pulling open the massive painting Eric clambered up the ledge behind the wall art and took in the cavernous room.

The vast space before him was dominated by Five immense, if low, preparation tables that sat beneath the house tables in the hall above. The walls were covered with stoves, sinks, cookware and further prep stations. Off near the back of the room where the aisle that separated the house tables from the high table sat there was a massive door with a smaller door set into it. That would probably be the pantry Eric thought.

Then he noticed what was going on between these tables. About halfway down the middle row he could see the heads of the two Weasley boy kneeling in a sea of what looked like bobble-head dolls in pillowcases and tea cozies.

"Hellos sir!" a voice squeaked just below his armpit. "Whats can squeeze be doing fors yous?"

"Umm, I was looking for the cooks. I sort of missed dinner and wanted to ask if I could use the larder." Eric said hesitantly, not sure what kind of creature he was talking to or the danger zones inherent in such an encounter.

"You're looking at them." Came a human voice from his right. He looked up to see one of the Weasley boys had snuck up on him. Looking back at the gnome he found it had disappeared into the sudden throng of movement.

"They're not dangerous are they?" the long haired sorcerer queried.

"Na," came the answer from his other side. "dead helpful they are."

"Do almost anything you could ask them." Continued the first twin.

"Mum keeps wishing she"

"Had one to do the laundry."

"Of course that would be"

"counterproductive. House elves"

"Enter or leave your service"

"when you hand them clothing."

Eric nodded, absorbing the information coming from the pairs back and forth method of speech. The he frowned. "I thought elves were tall and powerful?" he said, confused. "the dark elf in Gringotts certainly fit the classical description."

Gred's' eyebrows rose. "Oh ho! We have a clever one here, brother mine."

"As expected form a claw." Forge replied.

"See, they're not really elves."

"Or Fey, depending on who you ask."

"Officially, Merlin forged a contract with"

"Oberon the Fey King to have them as servants."

"But according to Morgana's portrait they're imps she summoned"

"And set against Merlin when he started the war of the emerald fold."

"which our history books call the first elven rebellion."

Eric held his head in his hands as he began to get dizzy from looking back and forth between the pair of them. He knew that history was written by the victors, but merlin starting a war with the elves? Magical servants were either enslaved gnomes or bound demons? And they were allowing either possible grudge bearing creature cook their food? More and more the wizarding world was beginning to scare him. Eric watched with trepidation as four 'house elves' bounded towards him carrying a platter piled high with a wide variety of sandwiches followed by a fifth that somehow managed to skip without sloshing a pitcher of pumpkin juice.

"Umm, Gred," he murmured, taking a sandwich from the tray he was being offered. "Both possibilities suggest creatures who bear a deep justifiable grudge against wizard kind. Are we sure it's safe to eat anything they give us?"

"Oh perfectly." The other twin answered.

"Whatever they may have been"

"In the past, House elves"

"are dead helpful. Always looking"

"for something to do or some way"

"to please their owners. Let them alone"

"Without anything to work on"

"Their magic builds up and"

"Drives them crazy!" The other twin finished.

"Hagrid insists it can be fatal if left too long." Forge said solemnly

"Right." Eric said stiffly. "Right. Thanks for the info." The twins nodded to him and were about to leave, carrying a pair of sacks with them when Eric jerked up and called back to them. "You guys mentioned pranks on the train?" seeing the two of them grin in affirmative Eric continued on in a rush. "For your next one I suggest you charm the silverware. Everybody expects to eat a pranksters attack off their plate or drink it from their cup, but no one ever checks the silverware."

"Good idea, mate. We'll have to look in on that." Gred said as he stepped out the door.

"Oh, by the way. Our names are actually Fred and George. We made the joke since even our mother mixes us up on occasion."

**_1234567890987654321_**

Wednesday dawned bright and cold and Eric was glad for the warmth of the green houses. Today was their first contact with the Slytherins whom they had for both Herbology and History of Magic.

Professor Pomona Sprout was a kind energetic woman. Stout and slightly dirty, she had a frizzy mop of hair and a kind smile. She wore mostly pebbled green leather and asked them to put on their dragon hide gloves as soon as role was finished being called. They were then treated to a tour of the fourteen primary greenhouses. The heavily enchanted glass buildings were arranged two too a year, each covering a semesters worth of plants they would be covering. Eric also noted that as the green houses increased in number they also increased in danger…

After the end of their tour the joint Ravenclaw Slytherin class returned too greenhouse one. Upon arrival they were each given a flower and a piece of parchment and told to draw and label the various parts as they were discussed. Eric partnered with Blaise Zabini and listened attentively. Horticulture had never been something Eric had put much time into, being far more interested in whether or not the kitchen was trying to poison him that exactly how a plant was formed. He vaguely remembered a book he'd flipped through at the shelter, but he'd only been looking for proof that broccoli was evil, not what the parts of a flower were.

Blaise, however was quite good at the class, sketching and labeling their flower quickly before offering to help him. The flower in question, glitter stem, was used primarily in potion making where the glowing flower pedals were used in pepper-up potions and the roots were used for most minor curatives.

Over all the class was one he thought he might end up enjoying. The plant that had spat seeds at people in green house four had been cool and the 'devils snare' was something straight out of his novels!

History of magic on the other hand was a bit of a disappointment. Other than the excitement of having ghost for a teacher Eric wondered if this was what his stories so often complained about when the heroes moaned about the worthlessness of teachers. He honestly did try to listen to the lecture Professor bins was giving on early goblin society, but when he saw that more than half of the class had already started drooling he gave up and opened their course book instead.

Ghosts, Eric had found from talking to the older students, were incapable of interacting with the physical world beyond sight and speech so there was unlikely to be any sort of quiz on the material short of exam time, another things many of his literary heroes had bemoaned. He had to wonder though how that was going to work. Would another teacher come in to administer the exam, or would the castle take care of it personally? He'd read in Hogwarts A History that the castle was alive and would often respond to the needs of the teachers or more general inhabitants. How the dorms always had the exact right number of beds available for incoming students was just one example.

As they left HoM for lunch Eric felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around he saw the dark eyes of the Greek boy staring at him intently. Eric slowed down slightly allowing his dark skinned class mate keep pace beside him. "You're… Blaise, right? Is there something I can do for you?"

Without preamble or apparent embarrassment the Zabini heir let loose. "I saw what you did at the feast Monday night; most of the school did. I want to learn."

Eric stopped in the middle of the stair case they were traveling and looked at him intently. He waited until the others had passed by before finishing his study of the boy. The boys hair was long, like his own, but blacker than ink with blue highlights where the light from the window glanced off it. His skin was dark, not like a black boys or a Hispanic, but sort of bronze as if he'd spent most of his life getting tans. The boys features were rounded with baby fat, but there were still hints of high cheekbones and sharp classical features there. All of this was taken in at a glance though as what really held his attention were the eyes. Dark brown, nearly black, and intelligent; almost… calculating. There was a hint of friendly warmth there and a hint of humor, but the edifice of the boys mindscape was more firmly locked to him than any he'd come across. It reminded him of a Gothic cathedral, a fortress defined by its foreboding beauty.

"I see no reason not to," Eric replied slowly, carefully schooling his features "but why should I? What would I get out of it?"

Zabini's face split in a smirk. "My mother is well connected and having consumed the fortunes of an impressive string of bigoted pureblood husbands is quite rich. That makes me well placed in Slytherin house before even proving myself. If the whispers I've already been hearing about you are even half true, learning from you could place me at the top of my house."

"As fascinating as that Is, I fail to see what's in it for me as your master."

Blaise grinned wider. "Taking me as your apprentice would give you a strong disciple and access to Slytherin house, not to mention a foot in the door to most of Brittan's high level political circles."

"Logically, yes, but social realities don't often follow logic and a simple disciple leaves the potential to betray the master. I have offered my power to my friends though…" Stark returned pointedly, a brow raised in emphasis.

"If you're talking about the pureblood muggleborn prejudice I really don't care about that." Blaise said, rolling his eyes as they started moving again. "My mother thinks it's a load of bollox anyways. Something about purebloods being much easier to seduce than mixed and thus inferior."

"A black widow, huh?" Eric said smiling in understanding. That was something he understood, having read about it in numerous mystery novels. The comment about prejudices was one he was going to have to ask about though.

"No, her animagus form's an acromantula. Only really weak wizards and squibs get mundane forms." The Zabini heir replied, misinterpreting the comment.

"Huh? But professor McGonagall's a tabby cat and she's really strong. She has to be to be a teacher, and that's not what I meant. Civilians refer to women who marry a string of wealthy, powerful men, take their money and sometimes kill them, black widows because of the spiders' tendency to eat their male partners." Eric explained.

"Oh… um, well Professor McGonagall's form is a kneezel. I saw her on the list last year when mother was trying to teach me. I haven't gotten there yet, but I should have my form in a year or two. I hope I'm a dragon! Animagi is a rare enough talent that it brings considerable prestige in wizarding society" Zabini explained as they entered the great hall "but powerful creatures are special in of themselves and dragon animagi typically get legends written about them. Merlin, Baba Yaga, the Jade Emperors in china, Muggles revere the sorcerer Quetzalcoatl as a god of intelligence and healing for Merlins sake!"

Eric grinned with him, short daydreams of what form their animagus forms might be dancing through their heads as they reached the house tables. "Well, I gotta go eat." Blaise said, gesturing to his table.

Eric nodded and began to walk off when he suddenly spun and called back before either got too far. "Oh, and Blaise,"

"Yeah?"

"If you want to learn, meet me in the library, Saturday at noon."

**_1234567890987654321_**

The next day Eric hung back at the end of charms class, waiting until Hermione granger had finished packing her books and supplies. He's spend the day partnered up with Padma Patil and hadn't had the chance to speak to the bushy haired girl yet. When she was done Eric turned to follow the brunette out into the hall on their way to the great hall. A soon as they got into the hall Eric spoke up.

"Hermione?" "Eric?" they asked at the same time. For a moment they looked at each other oddly. "Sorry, you go first." They said, again in unison. Eric laughed and scratched the nape of his neck.

"I have a thousand question," Hermione said, an almost apologetic smile on her face "why don't you start?" the bucktoothed brainiac offered shyly. It was an odd feeling to be talking to someone who was on her level without it being a grownup and she really didn't know what to do in this type of situation.

"Well," Eric said, his eyes glazing over for a second before a ball of soft white light appeared over his hand capturing the girls attention "I was wondering if you still wanted to learn?"

Hermione's face lit up and she started babbling immediately. "Yes! Yes, of course! How did you do that? Is it hard to learn? You said on the train it was a matter of making accidental magic intentional, does that mean anyone can do it? I couldn't find any book in the library about it and Madam Pince told me I had to get a note for the restricted section to read about it. What all can you do? I've read a few Muggle fantasy books, can you throw fireballs? Will I be able to fly? You don't summon demons do you?"

Eric put a finger against her lips and the stream of words stilled, her cheeks turning pink. "Let's see if I can remember this in order. I've got an almost eidetic memory, but it takes some concentration to use." Eric paused for a moment, leaning against the stone banister above the entrance hall. "In order, I pulled out a mote of power and shaped it, not as much as you might think, yes, I don't know what books there are on its professional use, many things, not yet, it's more of a stream of fire, I don't know, probably, and demons? Really?"

Hermione blushed again at that last point. "I'm holding my first session Saturday at noon. Meet me outside the library, we'll find an empty class room from there."

"Alright." Hermione replied cheerfully, pulling out a scrap of parchment and searching for a quill and ink. Eric handed her a BIK pen instead earning a smile.

"Tell the Weasley twins for me and see if you can't drag Harry along. I'm not sure If I'll see them between now and then. I'm gonna try and sound out the puffs tomorrow, but after my spat with Neville… well."

"I understand." The bushy haired girl replied, sticking out her hand. "I have a feeling this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Eric took her hand and laughed.

**_1234567890987654321_**

Eric stood outside of the defense classroom Friday morning and considered how to approach the Puffs. To be completely honest he didn't have a clue. From reviewing his memories the night before he knew that Hufflepuff was the largest of the four houses holding twelve students in their year of 40. Five girls: Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones, Leanne Laughland Megan Jones, Dawn Summers; and seven boys: Justin Finch-Fletchly, Wayne Hopkins, Ernie Macmillan, Zacharias smith, Mathew Stebbins, Dirk Summerby and Neville Longbottom.

He'd asked around the aerie about each of them, but at present there wasn't much to tell him how to act.

Bones was the niece of Amelia Bones, the magical minister of defense, and a pureblood from the supposed 'light' houses. Not a lot to go on, but probably cheerful and loyal with a distinct sense of honor. Normally that wouldn't be a problem, but with how he'd terrorized one of her housemates it didn't bode well.

Justin Finch-Fletchly was a half-blood who spent most of his life thinking he was a muggleborn, or so the gossip Cho Chang said, so there might be a little similar background he could capitalize on there. Not much, but some.

Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbot, Leanne Laughland, Mathew Stebbins and Dirk Summerby apparently hadn't rated any gossip yet, but Megan Jones was a muggleborn whose grandfather was supposed to have been some big tomb-raider back in WW2 and was serving as a professor at Cambridge. Dawn summers had only hit the gossip network because her wand core held a plume from an African Fwooper. He wasn't sure why that was special though, he'd have to ask Rubeus about it later. Zachariah Smith was supposed to be son of some business man, but that meant little to him, the only businessmen Eric had ever met had been career criminals and he wasn't particularly inclined to trust them.

As the classroom doors opened and everyone filed in Eric put in some extra effort to sit next to Neville, ending up between the chubby blond and Su Li. Su nudged him and quietly asked for a new notepad and pen which he gave her with a smile and Neville simply cowered away from him. Eric looked down at the pale boy and frowned, seeing the disapproving looks of Ernie Macmillan and the other puffs scattered around the room directed his way.

Eric sighed. This was going to be difficult.

Tearing a page off his notepad Eric began to scribble a note. _Neville, I'm honestly sorry I frightened you on the train. I wasn't mad at __you__, I lost my temper when I heard how your family was treating you._

Neville flinched as Eric slid the paper and pen in front of him. Neville and, to Eric's displeasure, Ernie read the note. Neville got a little paler while Ernie's face went from disapproving to hostile to confused. Eric sighed and reached into his mindscape for the source of his power. Exacting a small mote of power Eric made the pen stand at attention and begin to write.

_Please say something._

Ernie grabbed the pen and, after a few seconds trying to understand how to use it, scribbled a reply.

_What right did you have to terrify my house mate? He's been having nightmares all week, crying about black flames! _Eric accepted and read the paper as it was shoved in front of him.

_The black flames are something I've been doing since I turned six. They are accidental magic that occurs when I am horrified or uncontrollably angry. Please leave this between me and Neville, the reasons for my outburst are of a deeply personal nature to Mr. Longbottom._

The Hufflepuff boys read the note as Professor Quirell stuttered through what should have been a brief introduction.

Neville took the paper from Ernie and the two began whispering to each other. As their private conversation continued Eric refocused on the new professor, occasionally glancing back at the pair as their professor began to stumble over the course description. As bad as the man's condition seemed to be Eric had to wonder how Dumbledore had ever considered him to teach. Maybe it was just nerves? Eric frowned; he found that hard to believe. Unless the man was going into full breakdowns earlier in the week he shouldn't be stuttering like this. How did he get through the interview if he was this messed up? Or was it something that had happened to him only recently?

"What was all that about?" a voice whispered in his ear.

"Something happened between me and Neville on the train ride here. I'd rather not talk about it, but some things have to be taken care of." There was a hissing sound and Eric looked down to see the paper in front of him again.

_What did I tell you that was so wrong that you would scare me like that?_ Eric looked incredulously at Neville's frightened confusion and Ernie's malevolent scowl. 'how could he not know? How could he not understand what his uncle was doing? On the streets he'd seen teen mothers and drug addicts abandoning congenitally defective babies in dumpsters, he'd seen them hidden away like lepers in the occasional crime family who'd hire him as a thief, he read about it in story books, but in proper families children had always been something he'd been led to believe were sacred. What rational, caring parent would contemplate killing a child? Doing so repeatedly because they weren't perfect? Breathing heavily Eric drug his pen savagely against the paper, scrawling his reply by hand this time.

_You told me that because you didn't have magic until you were ten, your uncle repeatedly tried to kill you! Not only that, your family apparently let him! Why wouldn't I react badly, hearing that?_

Eric heard Su gasp as he shoved the paper back at Neville. The boy read it and tears began leaking from the corners of his eyes while Ernie when white with shock. Neville turned to his and whispered. "Why are you doing this? Why are you destroying the only family I have left? What do you want from me?"

Conjuring a soft golden light in his hand and holding it out towards Neville, Eric replied, his voice soft. "I want to help you." He said simply. "Would you like to learn?"

**_1234567890987654321_**

Eric was first alerted to the arrival of his friends by the presence of Ma'am Pince, hovering over his shoulder like a story cloud and tapping her foot in agitation. Looking away from the three tomes he had floating open before him he grinned sheepishly at the librarians disapproving glare. "Is there something I can do for you Ma'am?"

The birdlike witch pointed over toward the entrance to the Library where a number of people were standing talking. He checked his watch and started. Was it noon already? Thanking the elderly Librarian he closed the books and banished them neatly to the marked check-in counter and headed for the door.

"Well, if it isn't"

"The man of the moment!" The Weasley twins declared in unison, noticing his approach before anyone else.

Eric smiled and nodded, taking in the rest of the group and trying to determine who all had come. Hermione was there, alternately smiling at him and casting disapproving looks at the twins, probably something to do with one of their prank stories. Blaise was off to one side, looking coolly disinterested, Harry and, to Eric's dual surprise and displeasure, Ron were standing just beyond the twins. Rounding out the group were Padma, Su, 'Penny' and surprisingly Ernie Macmillan.

That stopped Eric short. What was Ernie doing here? He'd invited a different, darker, blond; of that he was fairly certain. He'd find out what was going on soon enough. Shrugging the small redhead lead them to the nearest classroom and began floating the desks into a circle. When the eleven of them were seated Eric began.

"I would like to thank all of you for coming here today and willingly sacrificing your Saturday sunshine to listen to an 11 year old kid puff himself up." Everybody chuckled at that, save Ron who just sat there sullenly. "With that in mind I know that each of you had your own reasons for attending. Hermione," Eric said nodding to the frizzy haired Gryffindor "is here for knowledge. Blaise sought me out with dreams of power." The pair nodded at each other, Zabini smirking as everyone turned to look at him briefly. "The 'twin terrors' for their sense of adventure" he continued earning foxy grins from the pair of them "Su for a sense of familiarity and Padma and Harry are here to support budding friendships. That leaves Ronald whose here because we both covet Harry, as creepy as that sounds and Ernie who I assume is checking this out for Neville's peace of mind. Penny though, I'm at a loss. I can guess that you're here for the same reason as Hermione, but how did you even know to show up? Not that I'm bothered by you being here, mind."

Penelope smiled serenely "I knew you'd be teaching your friends here today because you're about as subtle as an Erumpant Eric. You may not have noticed it, but the entire school is talking about your gifts. Ravenclaw is largely skeptical despite the big presentation you made here your first night, Slytherin is using Blaise here as a litmus stick and the Gryffs are wary of anyone who becomes friends with those to this quickly." Fred and George beamed with pride at that pronouncement.

Then as Penelope was about to pick up again Ernie cut in. "And we puffs don't particularly like you. This meeting goes well and things might start cooling down, but running roughshod over one of our den hasn't earned you any brownie points" The boy said pompously.

"Neville," Eric breathed "I knew as soon as I saw him running that was gonna come back to bite me somehow. I swear I di…"

"I know, Eric." The blond said cutting him off. "I read the notes. You're still gonna hafta prove yourself benign."

Eric sat there quietly for several minutes, thinking. "Well, on to business then." His eyes glazed over briefly and then glowed faintly with power as dozens of items from around the room began to dance through the air before settling in the center of the room where the random books quills and bobbles formed a vague facsimile of a human holding a pair of fireballs. Eric stood in the same position as the figure, sweating profusely; as the various items changed color to match the civilian cloths he was currently wearing.

When he spoke his voice was strained. "Magic." He began. "It's our birthright. Generated by our bodies it runs thick through our blood, to be called to the surface by those with the will to harness it." Eric fell to his knees, the construct becoming a pile of books and other classroom detritus. Shakily he shoved himself back up to his chair. "Those were the words written by Trudy Canavan in the second book of the black magician trilogy, the books that contributed the most to my success. Since finding I had magic I've read everything from Zen Buddhism to self-help books and every work of entertainment fiction in between and even a number of movies." There was a short flash in his eyes and a four pieces of paper flew onto the desks of everyone there along with a ball barring.

"Now, there are two ways we can do this. The first is the way I learned. I can offer you a selection of the books I found useful and a paper on my findings. This took me six months to start showing consistent, reliable results so with my direction it should take you lot… two, maybe three on the outside? If you practice of course, longer if there's no effort." Everyone was looking at him incredulously.

"And the other way?" Padma asked, raising her hand like she was in class.

Eric grinned. "Mrs. Canavan has provided me with a lesson plan. I leaned most of my spells by reverse engineering it, if you'd each allow I'm sure it could work for you as well."

**_1234567890987654321_**

Harry found himself floating in a formless void occasionally images and scenes from his life would half form from the shadows before fading away. It was interesting to say the least, and certianly NOT what he had expected when Eric had suggested that he be allowed to invade their minds. For one, there was no feeling of violation like Penelope had suggested, his memories didn't feel like they were being rifled through and examined by any outside force stealing control from his own mind.

Or perhaps Eric was just that good? Now there was a disturbing thought…

Harry froze as the mist shuttered three times, like it was being hit. Then it came again, almost like someone was…

_Harry! Are you going to let me in?_

_Eric? What are you doing? I thought you said you wouldn't be attacking us like prefect Clearwater was worried about…_

…_Harry, please don't tell me you've picked up Ron's habit of not listening to instructions._

…_Um, no? What was it you wanted me to do again?_

There was a long moment of silence and the presence that was his friend seemed to be struggling to hold some great force. _Picture your mind as a room. Any room will do._

That seemed simple enough. Harry's brow furrowed in thought and the four drab walls and cracked ceiling of his closet formed around him. Harry frowned at the image as it brought up unpleasant memories. With those memories details began to appear. His cot and blanket on the floor, waiting to be rolled up. The vacuum cleaner and several brooms appeared off to one side. A spiders web he had intentionally not cleaned out hung from the corner.

_What does it look like?_

Harry thought of his surroundings, preparing to answer when he felt a sense of disgust coming from the other side of the wall/

_Something wrong?_ the ebon haired boy asked.

_Why are you in a cupboard?_ There was a pause. _They made you sleep in a broom cupboard_?! Another pause, then _Under the stairs. With a lock on the outside of your door…_

Harry scratched the nape of his neck. _That's um… a lot more personal than I wanted you to know. I told you on the train, my Aunt wasn't very fond of me and Vernon hated anything that could be called unsusal. I got moved to a room upstairs after I got my letter_._ And how did you know that anyways? I thought you said you couldn't enter my mind without my permission?_

_You projected the image at me. _Eric replied. _All but shouted it really, here I'll send it back._

The image of his closet flashed in front of him, only slightly nodded, noticing the shaky quality of his friends 'voice'. He focused and the image reformed into the small bedroom, now devoid of Duddley's toys. _Here, is this better?_

_Yes, not I want you to concentrate on making a door. This one leads outside so you'll want to make it big. _

A moment later the sliding glass doors at the back of the Dursley house appeared. Harry slid the door open revealing Eric standing in a void, the face of what looked like a storefront behind him. _This is the space between minds._ Eric said, preempting his question. _It's completely imaginary, a representation of the physical distance our magic has to cross to link thoughts. Eventually you may get good enough to see the minds of others in this space, but for now let's head inside and get started. _

Harry stepped to the side and Eric walked in, nodding at something in the room.

"Alright; basic introductions to astral relations. First off: memories. I normally access mine in detail by imagining a portrait on the wall and thinking back on some experience or other, like in the book. Good, just like that." Eric explained, glancing back on the image that appeared where Harry knew the rooms window to be. "I'm not sure how wizards do this, but secrets, thoughts and memories you don't want others to be able to see when they come here can be hidden behind another door. Imagine one on the wall there and imagine putting things inside it. Even if wizards have another method of doing this it should take them at least a few moments to break down any door and should give you time to trance in and defend yourself."

Harry nodded and followed suit as Eric continued to explain how things worked in his book and what parts seemed to carry over into reality and how it contrasted with what he'd heard so far about Occlumancy and Legillimancy. A lot of the concepts were pretty basic, Telempathy or the passing of emotionally charged ideas through magic, mental constructs allowed for organization and quick recall of memories and knowledge and eye contact made everything much easier, thus making looking away a good defense against most mental attacks.

"And now for the real reason for being here." Eric said. "I want you to focus on making another door, but this time instead of putting stuff behind it or forming a construct by which I can interact with your mind, I want you to open a door to your concept of magic. If you need help, I can show you mine. Hermione and Penny needed to see it to find theirs."

Harry shook his head. "No, I got it." Turning to the wall near the bed Harry frowned for what felt like several minutes and a door appeared. Harry opened it to a void with a light at its heart, both impossibly far and just out of reach at the same time.

"Wow…"

Harry turned to look at the amazed expression on his friends face.

"It's alright, go inside." Eric continued, shaking his head. "The distance, again, is imaginary. A representation to how far you are from conscious control. It's why my eyes glaze over anytime I try to use my power. I have to come in here and find it."

Harry stepped forward into the void, finding it strangely solid. As he neared the enormous sphere of violet light he reached out, surprised by its heat. His hand drew back. "Is it safe to touch? How do you control it like this?"

Eric shrugged. "Feel free to touch it, it's your power after all, it won't hurt you."

Harry stepped forward, his hand skirting the edges of the energy before plunging in. It felt like a hot bath, hot and rough at first but then welcoming and euphoric after only moments to acclimate. Harry pushed his arm in up to the shoulder, basking in the feeling. As he did so he panicked, feeling his limbs, his heart pumping blood through his veins, the cool drift of air through the class room. He couldn't wake back up now, still needed to learn how to use his friends magic!

"Calm down." He heard from behind him, as a pair of hands pulled him back into the void.

"What was that?" Harry asked. "I felt like I was losing my grip, falling out of the trance and back into my body."

Eric smirked. "Your body is your magic." The redhead explained. "I'm not entirely sure on the mechanics of it or why it forms into a flame at our core, but your magic is generated by and feeds into every cell of your body, that's why you feel so exhausted when you overuse it." The boy got a confused look on his face for a moment before continuing. "It'd make sense by that, that running yourself dry would kill you, but it's never seemed to be the case. Anytime I've gotten really worn down by an enthusiastic crowd and later needed to use my magic to defend myself I've run dry as you can go, but all that seems to happen is I get sleep-in-till-diner-tomorrow tired."

Harry nodded and listened intently as Eric explained how to draw forth small motes of power and form their intent. He explained it could be done purely through focus on ones goal and high emotion as happened with accidental magic, but this was far more reliable.

As they came out of their respective trances Eric set him practicing on the ball and paper he'd been given at the beginning of the lesson and turned his gaze on Blaise.

Minutes later Harry stared at the floating metal with a single thought going through his mind. _Magic is so cool!_


	4. Chapter 4

AN: sorry about this chapter being two days later than promised. Some of the more narrative parts felt strained as I wrote them and I've lost another Beta. Hopefully I can get another soon so things will pick back up.

Chapter 4

Monday dawned bright and cold setting most of the boys in Eric's dorm to grumbling, but Stark himself was excited and, dare he say, giddy.

"Double, double, toil and trouble. Fire burn and cauldron bubble." Eric ignored his classmates, a wide grin on his face as he chanted Shakespeare's Macbeth outside the potions classroom. As he got to the line about 'liver of blaspheming Jew', the door the classroom door banged opened and the class began filing in.

The classroom was sparsely lit and built of shale. Four rows of four desks, wide enough for two people, were set across the back of the room. At the front of the room stood a single office style desk and blackboard, currently clear…and no teacher.

The first years spread out around the room, several taking desks with their opposite house, but mostly grouped as Claws or Puffs. Just as the whispering began to reach conversation level, a tall, pale man with long black hair billowed into the room, stilling the speculation with a glance. "Well now, isn't this pleasant…" the man said in a quiet voice, edged with distain. "A new batch of rug-rats."

Snatching a paper off of his desk, the gothic professor began to call roll, pausing on the name Longbottom with a sneer before turning to address the class. "Potions," the hook-nosed man stated, his voice quiet and serious as the grave, forcing them to pay close attention lest they miss a word "is easily one of the most dangerous classes you will take while attending this school and as such I will broker no foolishness from any of you. I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle power of a simmering cauldron or the artistic beauty of a perfectly concocted elixir, but for those of you fortunate enough to survive my class will find themselves capable of brewing fame, bottling glory, and even putting a stopper…in death."

Eric and, indeed, most of the class, listened in rapt attention as the man paused for dramatic effect. Whatever could be said about the man's appearance or health, he certainly knew how to control a class and had a real flair for the dramatic.

"Despite the lack of wand-work in this course, you will soon find yourself with the ability to bewitch the mind and mold the bodies of your drinkers like clay in the fists of Titans. Make no mistake, this is magic of an ancient and most powerful sort, predating all other forms of control, be it wands, staves, grand rituals or even runes. It does not care about your power, lending the careful brewer abilities on par with the greatest magicians of our time, be ye world-renowned dueling champion or lowly squib. That is what I can offer you… If you're not the dunderheads I'm usually forced to teach."

With that, he began going around the room calling on random people and asking questions from the text, occasionally awarding a point, two if he was really impressed, or taking away five depending on how he liked the answers. Eric himself managed to gain Ravenclaw 7 points by the time the first bell rang and Snape placed the directions of the first potion on the board. "The potion you will be brewing this week will be a simple curative for migraines; no doubt I'll need one by the end of the lesson. I trust you've all brought your tools and cauldron. Instructions are on the board, supplies in the student cupboard, you have till the end of the period to finish. I will be walking around the class correcting your errors. Do try to make my presence unnecessary, it's healthier that you do."

Taking a look at the ingredients on the board, Eric smirked as he noticed powdered willow bark halfway down the list. It would seem that Civilian medicine and potions making had at least something in common, if only in active ingredients. Turning his focus from the board to the student cupboard, Eric opened the doors and began levitating materials toward him, causing several Puffs to jump.

"Mr. Stark…" sneered a voice by Eric's shoulder. "I don't believe I said you could use your wand in my class. In fact, I believe I just made a speech to that effect. Hand it over."

"I would professor, but you see, my wand is upstairs in my trunk." Eric said politely.

The potions master's eyes narrowed. "You expect me to believe you're levitating objects without your wand?" he said, deceptively calm. When the redhead nodded, Snape's eyes tightened. "Detention Mr. Stark. Accio wand." When nothing happened, Snape looked at him strangely and Eric felt as if the sorting hat were trying to get into his mind again.

_Professor Snape?_ Eric projected.

The man jerked back. "We'll talk about this later Stark. Finish your potion." The professor turned back toward his desk and swept off, before throwing over his shoulder, "_Without_ magic." Severus spent the rest of the day distracted, reminiscing about simpler times and a girl named Lilly.

**_1234567890987654321_**

The door to Dumbledore's office banged open as Snape swept into the room.

"Lemon drop?" the wizened politician offered, smiling as he looked up from a series of reports on his desk. Seeing Severus' dark scowl, Albus sighed. "Harry again?"

"Stark," Snape hissed, shaking his head. "He needs to be watched."

"Might I inquire as to why, Severus?" the headmaster asked, an edge to his voice.

"He uses wandless magic on a level I've only seen twice, and has a rudimentary grasp of Occlumency and Legillimency. He's dangerous, even if he _doesn't_ end up being connected to the Dark Lord."

Dumbledore chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "There'll be no need for that Severus," the headmaster stated, holding up a hand to forestall the pale man's objections. "Franz," he continued, gesturing at the sorting hat "was surprised enough by young Eric to perform a full scan of the boy's mind. He assures me there is nothing to be worried about."

"Irrelevant. The Dark Lord came to Hogwarts performing comparable feats and he only got better in later years. I don't like it."

Dumbledore gave his potions master a long stare, his eyes twinkling and Snape felt the man's presence skittering along his shields. "You said you've seen it twice before." Dumbledore said, quietly. "Who was the other?"

The two of them stared at each other for several minutes, locked in a battle of wills that was as literal as it was figurative. Finally, Severus twitched and looked away. "There were… rumors about Black being… capable," the sallow skinned man ground out.

"As there were about many several others over the years. Including yourself…" Dumbledore returned, an edge to his voice. "I remember a particularly amusing story about James Potter summoning Lilly's brazier from the other side of the common room without his wand, but you mentioned _seeing_ someone." Dumbledore paused and the twinkling went up another level. "Who?"

As the pressure increased something faltered and a flash of red hair and a smile slipped through a crack in his opponent's shields. "Lilly." He breathed.

"Don't even go down that road, you old prune!" said a voice off to their right. Snape whirled to see the sorting hat animated and quivering. "Any connection between the two boys is superficial. They're friends, not brothers. Half or otherwise."

Snape huffed and looked away. "It doesn't change the facts of the matter. The boy is dangerous and needs to be watched," the potions master finished petulantly.

"I agree." Both Dumbledore and Snape looked at the hat in shock. "The boy is dangerous. He's also traumatized, brilliant, fiercely independent and cunning as any Slytherin. He watched his mother—Maria Stark, by the way—die as she was set on fire by a group of wizards. He escaped as they set the rest of the house on fire and made a name for himself on the streets. As I told you when you came in here Friday, bawling about Potter, if you don't curb yourself it will go badly, same as it did with Lilly. Except that unlike Potter, Stark has none of Lilly's compassion to keep him in check. Be his teacher, be his mentor, be the professor you're bloody paid to be and you'll have no troubles with Stark or Harry. Be yourself, and they'll fight you every inch of the way."

Snape snarled and left the room, his robes swirling behind him.

**_1234567890987654321_**

_Two days later…_

Professor Dumbledore looked up as his door swung open with a bang to admit a flustered looking McGonagall.

"Albus!" she said immediately, voice almost shrill, "I need you to help me with something."

"Oh?" the white haired warlock said, offering his professor a candy dish full of lemon drops, which was sadly declined. "Nothing too troubling I hope? More news on that Stark boy you're so taken with?"

"What?" the emerald robed witch asked, momentarily confused. "No, no. Young Mr. Stark is doing fine, I haven't seen him outside of mealtime today. I need you to sign a waiver on the ban against first years having racing brooms."

Dumbledore raised his still greying eyebrows. "Do tell? Whatever for?"

"It's Mr. Potter, Headmaster." She said pulling out a vial of silvery liquid and placing it on the desk. "Young Mr. Malfoy was harassing the other students during flight drills, trying to knock Muggle students off their broom and other such shenanigans, I've given him a week of detentions. However, before I could reach them to put a stop to Mr. Malfoy's antics, he stole Ms. Grangers wand and threw it at the whomping willow…"

Dumbledore winced visibly at this. "I suppose we'll be owing young Ms. Granger a new wand then?"

"No, actually. Mr. Potter went into a dive, passed unharmed through the willow's attacking branches and retrieved the wand without anything being broken, broom, boy or wand! I intend to use him as seeker to fill in Charlie Weasley's vacated spot."

Dumbledore set back in his seat. Interesting. This was worth considering. The boy was needed for Voldemort's eventual defeat, so his life was likely to be short… Allowing him a privilege like this would go far towards both his happiness and further elevating his own position in the boy's confidence. "I'll allow it," he agreed after a short pause, taking the paper and signing it with a flourish. "Be sure to send out for a broom; I noticed he didn't try to smuggle one into the castle, so it's unlikely he already has one."

"Shall I charge it to his account, or the school discretionary fund?" Minerva asked, as she headed for the door.

"Hmm, do we have any special projects on the books?"

The green robed witch considered for a minute. "Nothing at the moment. Rubeus is petitioning to add dragons to the northern cliffs again and we're waiting on ministry approval to revive the manticore nest in sector 93. They're still upset about Professor Trask's death during last years' defense practical."

"The discretionary fund then."

**_1234567890987654321_**

Eric's walked down the castle bluff Thursday afternoon, a spring in his step. Today, they were going to learn to fly! He'd been working on this for years, ever since he'd found that cache of superhero comics in the Belfast Public Library. He'd had little luck so far, only being able to levitate himself a few feet off the ground with his telekinesis, and the results were never particularly encouraging. It was simply too hard to hold the image of himself flying for any period of time, especially at speed.

_This would be different, though_, he assured himself as he joined the growing clump of students. Here, flying was taught by a professor though professional instruction built on thousands of years of cultural experience… Right? Eric looked down at the warped, splintery brooms dubiously.

Madam Hooch came out and ordered them to stand by a broom and Eric sighed. So much for dreams of riding majestic animals or intricately embroidered carpets. He'd have to write to Disney about this travesty.

"UP!" he said forcefully, following his teacher's instructions and resisting the urge to ply it with his power instead. He felt utterly ridiculous ordering the broom to rise while it just rolled along the ground at his command. He looked up and down the line and felt slightly mollified that he wasn't the only one. Several weren't even getting it to roll under their demands he noticed. Neville's in particular looked as if it was trying to get away from him.

"Don't be afraid of the broom!" Madam Hooch hollered down the line of Claws and Puffs. "The enchantments on these brooms are old and have acclimated to a great many riders, they can sense if you don't trust them! Grow a spine and give the command. UP!"

Eric frowned and clamped down on his emotions, pretending he was being taken to meet those guys from the IRA again like last year. No fear, no doubt, it's all or nothing. "_Up!_" and the broom rose, settling just below waist height and tilted up at an angle perfect for mounting. Madam Hooch smiled at him as she walked down the line.

"You too, huh? Good job," the cat-eyed blond said as she passed on, coaching others into raising their brooms.

Once everybody had managed to mount their brooms, Madam Hooch went around correcting their holds and positions, explaining about things like flight and breaking charms. It was all quite a bit more interesting that just sitting there thinking about holding a rod between his legs. _I really need to get my mind out of the gutter. Keep this up and flying's going to be impossible._

When the class was seated to Rolanda Hooch's satisfaction, they were told to kick off lightly, hover for a moment and push forward to return to landing. "Baby steps, boys and girls. Have to learn to walk before you can run."

Unfortunately, Neville was too nervous to listen to her instructions and promptly freaked on lift-off. As he shot off, Eric's eyes went wide. Two thoughts ran through his head simultaneously, making him dive for his power. _That oaf's going to hurt himself _and _catching him should go far towards gaining his trust._ As the now familiar feeling of warmth suffused him, Eric thrust forward, imagining a pair of hands grabbing both the boy and his broom. Eric felt a slight drain as the pudgy boy's flight slowed and smoothed out from its earlier erratic pattern. Moving his arms in a pneumonic to relieve some of the stress on his mind, the red-haired sorcerer guided his blond acquaintance back to his position in line.

Neville set back down on the lawn lightly, his gaze locking with Eric's and the boy nodded, his face becoming oddly serious. _Thank you,_ the boy projected causing Eric to smile.

_Learn to fly,_ Eric sent back. _Today, I'll be your safety net._ The other boy nodded.

The rest of the lesson progressed smoothly. Aside from the constant stares of both houses and Madam Hooch, nothing more remarkable happened for the rest of the afternoon as the elder witch took them step-by-step through the basics of flight. While still near the ground, they learned how to land and take off, fly at varying speeds, fly upside down, and remounting your broom from such a position. After that, Rolanda began conjuring rings and ribbons of light for them to fly through, all the while giving them tips about turning and what grips to use for various speeds. She also kept watch as the more adventurous students began to take the rings at speed and try tricks they'd heard about with the spindly twigs. The brooms maximum speed was about 50 MPH, Eric estimated, pushing his to its limits once or twice, and the maximum height was only 300 feet.

It was still enough to kill you, but not enough that you or the teacher wouldn't see it coming.

Despite his concerns about the mode of travel, Eric quickly found himself having fun, taking the various rings at greater and greater speeds. He wasn't quite Green Lantern and others were doing better than him, but it was still a very freeing experience.

That was until he the adrenalin wore off during diner and he began to feel all of the splinters he had taken during the days flight. He spent the rest of the evening down in his trunk, removing them. One by painful one.

**_1234567890987654321_**

Detention with Snape was an interesting affair, Eric decided as he headed towards the main library. It had stolen his Saturday morning, which he wasn't happy about, but he had expected the man to be openly antagonistic during the experience. He had done a lot of digging on Professor Snape through the various houses' gossips and every story had pointed to a shallow petty man who bullied anyone except Slytherins, and even then if you weren't somehow special.

The reality however, was different.

Upon entering the room at 8AM Saturday morning, Professor Severus Snape had told him under no uncertain terms that he was not to use magic beyond potions in his Potions Lab, be it wanded, wandless or otherwise. That done, he had made Eric go back and forth from his desk to the student store cupboard to retrieve and prepare items individually under the professor's watchful eye. It was a long and boring exercise, repeating the same potion they had been assigned in class earlier that week four times before the greasy haired man had left him alone to chip out cauldrons until lunch was served.

If he had to describe the experience, he'd have called the man clinical.

"Eric!"

The red haired boy looked up, a piece of bacon hanging out of his mouth, to see his grouped friends standing around the entrance to the library. Eric examined the crowd, pulling the rest of the crisped pork into his mouth. It was a lot bigger than last time he noted nervously. Most of the first year Puffs and Claws were now in attendance apparently. "We're going to need a bigger room."

"It's fairly warm outside," Su said, shrugging.

"By the lake?" he returned.

"Be a good place for the 'proving your creed' part of the introduction," Padma cut in with a smile.

"I'm not too good with the elements yet…" Eric mumbled, looking around at the mass of eyes staring at him. "Though I suppose I could use Kinetics to compensate."

"If I may?" Eric looked up to see Penny making her way through from the back of the group of shorter students. Eric nodded, earning a smile from the blond prefect. "Just down the hall from our dormitories is a room that would be perfect for large groups," she explained with a playful grin.

There was some sort of secret there, Eric was certain of it. "Lead the way, good lady," Eric said bowing dramatically.

"One condition."

Eric cringed. He should have expected this sooner or later. Even he didn't offer these classes for nothing, after all. He raised a brow at the girl waiting for her to continue.

"If you like my private study, you've got to teach my boyfriend."

Eric nodded slowly, feeling inexplicably let down for some reason. _Now why would that be_? He wondered. _It isn't as if she isn't entitled to a request, or a boyfriend._ Shaking it off, he nodded to the older girl. "Lead on," he said, stepping back for the prefect to move forward. They followed her for five minutes, past the inconspicuous entrance to the Ravenclaw dorms, around the corner and halfway down the next hallway to stop before a massive portrait if trolls in ballerina suits. There was no door in sight, so he began examining the portrait looking for a clue to opening it. _Banabus the Barmey teaches trolls to dance_. He read. He was halfway through forming theories on how to pass through when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Eric, c'mon."

Eric turned around to see the crowd of students flowing through a door that hadn't been in the opposite wall when he'd been looking around earlier. "Tricky," he murmured. What better way to hide a room than to hide the door itself? The concept had been used in hundreds of mystery plots of various books he'd read over the years; it only made sense that wizards would have taken the idea a step further, seamlessly submerging the ornate mahogany door in the stone wall it was built into.

Walking into the room with Hermione, he found the room to be filled with bookcases, massive squishy armchairs and couches that you could easily sleep in. "Room, could you clear a space in the center for my friends?" Penelope asked, her voice polite, but somehow filled with laughter. The room responded with a shudder and the dimensions expanded like his trunk had until the armchairs and couches made a trio of enormous circles around the group with Penny in the center.

"Huh," Eric said. "Neat." As the rest of the people found seats, Eric craned his neck to meet Penny's eyes. "Deal. Definitely." Remembering his conversation with Blaise the week before, Eric grinned. There were two ways to build a paying crowd in his experiences as a magician: Get the crowd involved in the act, or start your act with shock and awe. He'd done shock and awe last time and saw no reason not to do so again. He'd need a different approach this time though.

"Magic," he started, igniting his fist with purple light. "It's the foundation of our society," the boy continued, allowing the light to flow over the rest of his body, assuming a rainbow hue. He summoned his stilts and hopped onto them, covering it up with the illusionary disguise he'd used earlier that year to set up a bank account. "It flows through everything," he said, furthering the illusion so that curtains and streamers of light danced across the entire room.

Eric faltered at this point. The power requirement of this performance was negligible, but to form the images, he had to imagine everything and that required an understanding of three-dimensional space which was usually reserved for artists and engineers. He was working on it, but it wasn't easy. "Connecting us," he said as the lights wove themselves through each person there, bringing gasps from most of the crowd. "Binding us…" he intoned, creating a feeling of pressure around the room. "Freeing us." The pressure lifted and suddenly everybody was floating just off their chairs, weightless.

The power cut off and Eric's illusionary form looked around the room sharply. "There are no limits to what magic can accomplish." He spoke forcefully, changing his illusionary form again to that of a 12-foot tall, six-armed woman in an exotic garb. "Not by wands, nor runes, nor potions ingredients." He shifted the illusion again becoming a small green, almost goblinoid Yoda, complete with high-pitched, creaky voice and gnarled walking stick. "Limited, you are, by imagination," the ceiling filled with stars like the Ravenclaw dorms; "understanding," the stars faded away to lines, calculations and diagrams he remembered from various books, "and power," Eric finished, trading all of the illusions for a violet light at each of the audience members' stomachs.

"Now," he said, clapping his hands together and letting go of his magic, "who wants to learn?"

The response was explosive, even from the people who had been there for his last presentation. _Topping this is going to be difficult, I hope I don't have to do so every lesson_, he mused. He set those who had been with him last time to levitating the ball bearings and for those like Harry, Hermione, Padma and Penny who had already gotten that far, he explained how to light a candle before turning to the new recruits. As he looked at Neville, sandwiched between Ernie MacMillan and Susan Bones, he couldn't help but think.

_This is going to be an interesting year._

**_1234567890987654321_**

Harry carefully molded his power as he guided it toward the wick of the candle, focusing it towards creating heat. He was on his sixth candle, having blown the others up. He glanced at the splattered blobs of tallow and snorted. He was distracted and he knew it, thinking about last night's duel that wasn't with Draco Malfoy. He wondered what Eric would have done. Turned invisible to avoid Filch? Hunted Draco down and demanded Malfoy's answer? Hell, his other redheaded friend would probably have summoned the white rat to the trophy room with him like he did with Trevor on the train. Not for the first time he wondered, just how far beh…

"How's it going, Harry? I'm wiped." _Speak of the devil_, Harry thought as he looked up at the pale boy, sprawled out on the floor in front of him.

"I'm having trouble with the exercise you set me," Harry replied, gesturing at the dead candles. "Think you could help?"

Eric rolled his head to look at him and twitched, trying to shrug, but in a bad position for the action. "Sure, fire away."

Harry was silent for several seconds, putting another halfhearted attempt to light his candle in as he gathered his thoughts. "When I first came here I was afraid," he admitted quietly. "I was worried I wouldn't be able to measure up to the other students. I mean honestly, they'd spent their entire lives in the magical world and here I was, hardly able to believe that magic was real." He sighed and met Stark's uncharacteristically serious gaze. "It seemed like such a dream come true that I knew, just knew there had to be some catch to it. That if it wasn't going to blow away like the morning mist, then I'd be horrible at my classes or something else horrible."

Harry crossed his legs in front of him Indian-style and lit up his fist with the heatless violet fire of pure magic. "It had already happened once before you know?" Harry continued after a few seconds. "When I first started going to school, I pushed forward quickly. It didn't take much effort and I quickly got so far ahead of Dudley and the rest of my class, my teachers went to my aunt and uncle to ask them if I could join the first graders a month into grammar school." He gave his friend a smile that felt more like a grimace. "That was one of the few times my guardians beat me," Harry told his friend quietly, seeing those large grey eyes turn to steel.

"After that, I started holding myself back. Those were the rules they had set me after all. Don't ask questions, don't make a fuss, do what we tell you, and never, under any circumstances, outshine Dudley. Not that they put it like that of course. Thing is as time went on I noticed I got used to following those mandates, up until the point that it became unconscious." He laughed after that. "Do you know what I did the same night you taught me about my mindscape?" he asked bitterly. "I went back in and seeing what a disarray it was in, I started straitening it up. I couldn't help myself! At home, I'd gotten used to anticipating Petunia's orders and keeping everything spotless so when the eventual task list came, it'd be over quickly. Ron already complains about how I insist on fixing our dormitory when the others leave messes. Drives both of us spare.

"Thing is, when I came here, I was worried about falling back into old habits, so much so that I practically memorized our textbooks. They you come along. Everything's easy for you; spells, learning, you're a social force in these meetings and always partnering with someone else every class. It's not because nobody likes you either. And then there's this." He gestured around the room with one arm and at the candle with the other.

"So you're feeling inferior," Eric told him in that quietly furious voice of his.

"Yeah, sort of."

Harry was caught off guard when the rusty redhead smirked at him. He was about to get angry when the boy spoke again. "Last week I was feeling the same thing about you." The shock on his face must have been evident because Eric grinned wider. "Remember when I showed you your core? C'mon, I wanna show you something." Eric told him. The other boy eyes began to visibly twinkle and Harry felt himself getting pulled into mindscape.

_This way, hurry up._

Harry found himself looking at the front of that same storefront he'd seen last week across the distance between.

_You're not ready for proper magic sensing yet _Eric projected to him as he opened the door to let Harry in _so I gotta show you here. Don't feel bad, it took me nearly five years to learn once I started using my powers so even if you're another Hermione it'll still take you a few months minimum. She's already on her fourth lesson, y'know? I'm kinda proud of her._

Harry could feel the warm glow coming through his friend's thoughts when he spoke so he really did understand. There was also a clear hint of jealousy mixed in there to Harry noted with a small smirk.

Eric led him through an open, dirty cafeteria like room to a door that looked like it belonged more on a house than a broken down subway. The door was pushed open to a familiar void and harry took a look in.

_Come on,_ Eric said, brushing past him into the void _I won't let it burn you._

Harry entered and the door shut behind him, disappearing entirely. Eric's core looked a lot like his, a large violet and plum flame like the wick of a candle, only without the hole at the bottom where the string entered. As they got closer though harry noticed something different about the Stark boy's magic. _Eric, what's that shadow, at the bottom left, see?_

Eric approached the orb, looking closely. _That's the black fire, _the boy returned, closely examining the area he'd indicated._ Thanks for pointing that out. Five years and I've never been able to find it._

_Really?_ Harry asked. It hardly seemed possible as good as his friend was that he could have been searching for something that obvious about himself for five years and never seen it. Hadn't he pulled it out in front on Neville just two weeks ago?

_You wouldn't believe how difficult it is to see something about yourself if you're afraid to see it. You always know it's there and loathe yourself for it, but it still eludes you. Did I tell you how I first found my magic? _Sensing more than seeing his denial, Stark continued. _I was living on the streets at that point. I'm sure I'd done accidental magic before but it really hit me around 8 months I'd started living on the lam. I suppose it had something to do with the fire that killed my mum and burned down my house, but it was winter and some boys were shaking down the local street rats. I didn't have enough money and the started beating me. I snapped and flames as black as their robes started pouring off my body._

Stark turned away from his examinations and Harry could feel the pain, horror and guilt of the memories through the thoughts coming his way. _It was the first and most blatant sign I'd had of my power. Two traumatizing events dealing with fire in the same calendar year-I blamed myself for mum's death for nearly two years after that, despite my work in magic. I still do, I think; at least subconsciously. That's what's been keeping me from seeing this, from being able to control it. I've seen it nine times since then and never had any control over it. _Harry felt a sudden spike of gratitude come his way. _I think it might be possible after this, I guess those psych books on PTSD were right after all, sharing really does help._

_NOW! To what I wanted to show you! _Eric's sudden reversal caught him flat footed and he stayed silent waiting for his friend to continue. _This is my core._

_I can see that _Harry snarked, a shit-eating grin on his face and thoughts. Eric gave him a dirty look before continuing.

_It looks about as big as I am, as big as yours was, but that's because of perspective, not actual power. I'm using my magic sensing spell right now too so you can see what I'm talking about. _Another orb of power about the size of a beach ball appeared off to the left and Harry looked at it quizzically. _This is your friend Ronald's core. It's relatively respectable, about half of what mine was the first time I saw it. If you look at these striations' here_ he said pointing out various flickering patterns in the corona _he's only ever done accidental magic before coming to Hogwarts. His wand is beginning to even out the burn, but it's not suited for him, if you remember he said it was his brothers old wand. It's part of the reason his casting is so bad. Where I've been using magic for near six years mine is a lot bigger than his._

Eric shrugged at his frown and disapproval coming over the link. _It's true. Blood, experience and a dozen other factors affect the power of our magic. _Another orb appeared next to Eric's. It was half again as big as Eric's own. _This is professor McGonagall,_ Eric said as way of explanation _her office is below us and a room or two over_. _She's a powerful witch with sixty years of experience. See all of these patterns in her burn? I haven't even the slightest clue what most of them mean, but it's all very strong and very controlled. She's a good bench mark for what any witch worth her wand can expect to become._

_Now here's a memory of Dumbledore's _Eric continued. The image was a bit fuzzy but the burning orb that appeared was enormous, easily dwarfing Eric's and McGonagall's. W_hatever else you or I may now or may later come to think of him, the man deserves respect just for that. He's nearly 160 years old, well past his prime even for wizarding standards and he's easily three times as tall as Professor M. That takes something special._

_So what's this all got to do with why you're jealous of me?_ Harry asked.

_Because you need a frame of reference. Look at Weasley, that's what you should expect from someone who's never done magic, it's the power of most of the first years that came in with us, more or less. Hermione's a little bigger, and so are a lot of the half-bloods, but the carrot head's not bad as a benchmark._ Eric ignored the reproachful glare Harry sent him and plowed on. _McGonagall is good for what you could expect most of our classmates to be in their prime and I'm impressive for my age or so I've found._ Again Eric ignored Harry's raise eyebrow as he preened.

_This_, the boy said, showing another orb. It was between Eric's and Professor McGonagall's in size. _This _Eric stressed the word and gestured to the new flame _is yours._ Eric looked at him as if awaiting something and understanding began to dawn in Harry's mind.

_You've never done magic beyond accidental,_ Stark told him simply. _At the bonding of your wand, you were a clean slate. See the near perfect burn? Only patterns are recent impressions from charms and transfigurations class. You've even got signs of under development over here_ the boy said, pointing to the dark plum that seemed to boil sickly at the base of the flame where the wick would normally be. _This indicates the stagnation of a person's core from malnutrition and mental maltreatment. See here? Even I have striations from when I was first out on the street._

_I think I get what you're talking about_ Harry sent back. _Whatever it is that's making my core so big was held in check by my guardians' mistreatment. You're saying it'd be a lot bigger if not for that. That I'm still bigger than you despite my relatives handicaps is making you quake if your boots._

_No need to rub it in, _Eric whined. _I've worked _hard_ for my power…_

Harry smiled back at him. _I think I'm ready to try again._ He said, falling out of mindscape. He woke up to see his friend slowly twisting on the floor, each movement accompanied by a staccato of wet cracking pops. He cringed at the sound. "Stiff, are you?"

"You have no idea," Eric groaned. "Four hours under Snape's thumb wasn't as scaring as I'd expected, but chipping cauldrons is no joke."

Harry gave his friend a curious glance before shrugging and grabbing a small mote of power to light the candle. There was a soft _whump_ and a fireball appeared over the wick before shrinking back to a simple flame at the end.

"Nice," Eric commented. "You need a little more work on control and a smaller power output, but good. Practice that and you might be ready for the third exercise before the dinner." Eric stood up, further cracking pops heralding the movement, and Harry watched in amusement as his friend shook himself. It looked like a dog or cat shaking off after a bath.

"Making the rounds, Professor Stark?" Harry said, grinning.

"You know it, buster," Eric returned, grinning. "By the way," the redhead added over his shoulder as he walked off, "pushing yourself to learn like you used to would go a long way to clearing up that blockage and a visit to Madam Pomphrey could probably clear up the rest."

Harry stared after his friend for several seconds, then stood abruptly. _Now, where did Hermione get off to?_

**_1234567890987654321_**

The six weeks passed relatively quickly for Eric, dissolving into a blur of books, classes and friends. He was used to manipulating people for his benefit from life as a street rat and magician, but it was odd to feel actual sense of friendship with them. It was different here at Hogwarts. Oh, he was still building a following like he had with his magic shows, but teaching them and building himself up as 'Oz the Great and Powerful' still gave him a certain glow that he'd never felt with his previous minions, especially whenever someone called him Professor Stark.

The only point of contention had come the week after their talk when Harry asked to cut off sorcery class early so he could go to his first quidditch practice. Not that he told Eric the reason of course; he remembered his friends contention with Ron on the train over the position and was still afraid of losing a friend over something stupid like he had so often with Dudley.

Eric had really hammed it up when Wood noticed him in the stands and he and Harry flew over to confront him about it. "Oh Harry, you wound me!" he'd told the dark haired boy, staggering around, hands over his heart. "You really do! It just hurts, right here. So soon after our little heart to heart and you up and join the enemy; however is this poor heart of mine going to recover?" he finished, posing and then falling dramatically, arm over his forehead.

"Who are you?!" Wood said, furious. "Who is this, Harry? How did he know we were out here? What did he mean, joining the enemy? Aren't those Ravenclaw robes?"

Harry, red-faced from embarrassment, put up his hands pleadingly, sending a dour glare at his friends grinning face and eyes, just peeking out from under his arm. "This is my friend, Eric Stark, and yes he's from Ravenclaw. But don't worry, he won't tell anyone. We had a conversation on the train about the position of seeker and he thinks it's stupid and shouldn't be part of the game." Wood's eyes bulged and Eric jumped up grinning, madcap.

"Another fanatic, huh? Don't go there, Mon' Capitan; it wasn't part of the original game as it was played for several centuries anyways. I read in Quidditch through the ages that the snitch was added because a minister of magic in the early 1800's released a golden snidget bird into a game and offered 150 galleons to the player of the six man teams who caught it. The golden ball replaced the bird because they hunted the poor thing to the point of extinction. The use of the position completely unbalances' the game."

Eric turned back to Harry. "Honestly I don't mind you being a seeker—the skill it takes to catch something that small in the middle of a battlefield isn't something to scoff at—I just think that either the points should be reduced and it shouldn't end the game or it should be its own sport altogether. I'm kinda disappointed you tried to hide it from me, but no big. Really."

And that was it. He talked Wood into not holding practice Saturday between lunch and dinner and left.

Things between him and Ron, however, were quickly deteriorating. Eric didn't particularly like the lighter redhead to begin with but, on Harry's urging, he'd made a real effort on his part to be civil with the boy. Unfortunately, every offer of help of oblique suggestion only made the lion angrier. To him, Eric and Hermione were 'those insufferable know-it-alls' and Eric in particular was reviled as fraternizing with the enemy for encouraging Harry to work with Blaise Zabini and Tracy Davis—those 'slimy snakes' as Ron called them. Eric had lost a few Puffs in his weekly meetings due to Ron's attitude, saying they had enough to go on for the moment and would return when Ron left. Eric wrote up a lesson plan and explanation for a dozen exercises and gave it to Neville for the others with an apology and explanation that Harry was still holding onto his friendship with the redhead and he couldn't kick him out without risking the loss of a real friend. Naturally, this got into the gossip network and created even more animosity between the two of them.

Harry, on the other hand, was beginning to open up to others. The spilling of their individual dark histories had mellowed the pair of them out somewhat and the constant forced contact with members of three separate houses, none of whom were frighteningly focused on him had allowed the dark haired boy to start making friends outside of his regular comfort zone. Eric had watched proudly as Harry and Tracy had teased Blaise about his hazy illusions, prompting the boy to charm their hair into grass. Susan Bones, one of the Puffs who had stuck around despite Ron, was also fast become one of the boys' close friends. The girl was a hex guru and had already managed to start learning several of her favorite curses wandlessly, something she was happily teaching Harry, a pretty blush occasionally gracing her cheeks.

It all came to a head, Thursday October 31st. In charms, Professor Flitwick had decided they were ready for the levitation spell, a charm which would allow them a narrow approximation of Eric's own telekinesis. The charm itself was fairly easy, broad strokes in a short pattern and a word in Latin. The word itself was honestly the hardest part of the spell and Flitwick, well used to Eric's typical battery of questions, spent a good five minutes making sure everyone had the pronunciation perfect.

After that, the class quickly dissolved into people tickling each other from across the room with their feathers. Even Hermione let herself loosen up for a few moments and let her feather get into a dogfight with Harry and Ron's.

Everything would have been fine except that Hermione then took the initiative to talk with Harry about the differences between the spell and Eric's own; effectively stealing all of the scarred brunettes' attention away from him and bringing up the freckled boy's nemesis in the same blow.

"Oh, just shut up already you insufferable little bookworm! It's always Eric this and Eric that; why don't you just trade houses and leave us alone! No one wants you here anyway." Hermione blanched and looked like she wanted to cry when the temperature in the room dropped suddenly. Everybody in the room shrank back as Harry and Eric turned in sync to look at Ron, expressions frigid.

"Now listen here you ignorant, acrimonious little twit; you will apologize to Hermione before I do something regrettable."

It was Ron's turn to blanch. "Harry, c'mon mate, back me up here!"

When Harry didn't say anything, Professor Flitwick took the reins of the class. "There will be none of that in my class, boys," he squeaked, somehow managing to sound dangerous despite his high, cartoonish voice. "Everybody will settle down or there will be detention for the pair of you."

Everybody got back to work, but the festive atmosphere was gone. Hermione was looking confused and hurt; Eric silently furious, and Ron desperately trying to get the attention of a suspiciously deaf Harry. As the day continued, Harry slowly warmed up and began talking to his friends as if nothing had happened, save that he was still ignoring Ron. By the time the feast rolled around Ron was sitting sullenly halfway down the table from Harry and glaring murderously at Eric. He still hadn't properly apologized to Hermione so Eric couldn't care less how the boy felt. It wouldn't save him from retribution later.

The Samhain festival was a blast. Hagrid had spent most of the morning hauling in pumpkins big enough for the half giant to stand in and, with the help of the house elves, had hollowed them out, set bonfires within and set the Hogwarts art classes to carving some pretty lurid faces and pictures into the rinds. A couple of them had even been charmed so that the images moved and the faces would rant like cheesy villains from a variety of popular literature. Candles floated through the air burning blue, black and green as they moved in a variety of patterns Eric was having a hard time deciphering and Eric swore there were live bats fluttering through them as well. The tables were similarly stocked with everything from fresh harvested fruit and vegetable platters and whole grain dishes to animated candies from Honeyduke's and Zonko's joke shop.

Eric was chatting with Fred, George and Blaise about how to best get back at Ron while viscously gnawing on an animated jelly rat. The twins had been reluctant at first but agreed that what their little brother had said to one of their friends had been out of order. Hermione was even more liked in Eric's weekly class than the sorcerer himself was and had apparently helped the freckled pair in ironing out a lot of the kinks in their usual shenanigans.

"So how about charming the word bully in zits across his forehead?" Eric asked. "Too harsh?"

The twins looked pensive for several moments, conversing with each other silently in a series of facial movements and hand gestures that Eric couldn't even begin to guess at. "Seems about right, not nearly so vindictive as your last few dozen ideas, but pointed and embarrassing enough to drive things home," said Fred.

"But it sends the wrong message," continued George. "And makes you look like a berk."

"What you're suggesting is textbook bullying," Fred explained with a shrug. "The reasons are good, but the message just comes out as you being a hypocrite."

"So I need a different word then, how about…"

"_**TROLL**__!_" The doors of the great hall slammed open and professor Quirell tore through the center of the hall tripping over his own feet in apparent terror. "_Troll in the dungeons!"_ he cried, his voice sounding shaky in its jumping, high-pitched terror. "Thought-thought you ought to know." And the man fainted.

As everyone starts screaming, the twins pull out a piece of parchment and put their wand to it, huddling close so Eric can't see. "Shit, it's not in the dungeons." Fred mutters.

"Oh bugger that, it's not near any of the dormitory paths, what's it matter?" George finished as Dumbledore quieted the crowd with a blasting charm.

"Well that's interesting," Blaise spoke up, having climbed onto the benches and sat on the table so he could see what the twins were hiding.

"Indeed it is," Eric replied as the headmaster directed everyone to head for their house dormitories where they could continue the feast in safety. "You've been holding out on us. I guess this answers how you always know when I'm looking for you two and how to get right up behind me."

"What?" George asked.

"We're professionally insulted!" Fred continued.

"Insulted mind you, that you think—"

"We need a rare enchanted item—"

"To appear when someone least—"

"Expects it; and not our own—"

"Wonderfully professional skill!"

Eric rolled his eyes. "Oh can it you two," he said, turning to his Slytherin disciple. "Blaise, I'm gonna go blow off some steam. The professors aren't going to find this troll any time soon running around the dungeons. See if you can't snag Harry and Hermione; I'm going troll hunting."

**_1234567890987654321_**

Hermione was worrying silently, twisting her robes between her hands as she ran with Blaise, Harry and the Weasley twins towards the second floor. This was foolish, reckless! Certainly she was upset that Ron, someone she had thought was her friend, would say things like that, but far stranger to her was that Harry and Eric had gotten so mad at him about it. And now Eric was fighting a troll for her! It just didn't make any sense! Eric had already risked detention to defend her against Ron, what was the point of risking death, or worse, _expulsion,_ fighting a troll?

There was a roar at the end of the corridor and the group looked at each other before sprinting forward. They rounded a corridor to find Eric standing there, arm raised and fending off blows from the brutes club on a shield of shimmering purple light and alternately throwing lightning and rubble at the creature. There was another roar as dust was redirected to cake in its eyes. Harry turned to them and began barking out orders as Eric pushed the troll back with an explosion of fire.

"Blaise, bind its feet; stop it from moving. Fred and George, distraction; Eric had a good idea trying to blind it, keep it busy. I'm going to help the pratt directly! Hermione!" Harry finished, looking directly into her eyes. "Get control of that club. GO!"

It was a testament to the scarred boy's force of personality that no one questioned him, immediately leaping to their assigned tasks. Blaise, who had shown himself to be a talent in transfiguration, dug his fingers into the stone of the corridor, hands glowing purple, and set the stone around the troll's legs to forming tendrils and snaking up the beast's legs to bind it. Fred and George continued their friend and teacher's work of charming debris to flow around and clog the eyes and ears of the grey-skinned goliath. As Harry rushed up to join his friend, the boy released a series of fireballs that splashed across the monster's face, making it roar again as it inhaled its own singed facial hair.

Hermione watched her friends as they systematically tore the troll apart, pausing only briefly as Harry's words came back to her and she grabbed the trolls swinging club in a telekine grip. All this because someone had insulted her. _Is this really what it's like to have friends?_ Her mind whirled. _To have people willing to stand up for you when you're hurt? Who get angry at the one who did it?_

The troll looked up at its floating weapon, confused for a few seconds, before roaring again, enraged at the runts assaulting it and Hermione shook herself out of her ruminations. Eric had abandoned his shield and formed secondary fists of stone that were now wailing on the troll's solar plexus as they mimicked his wild motions. She looked up at her club as the beast took to directing two-handed overhead blows at her two best friends instead and her face tightened in resolve.

There were people willing to fight for her; she would fight for them too. With that she raised her hands as if the club was actually in her hands and the floating tree branch responded in kind. She brought her arms down in a baseball swing, clouting the beast over the head with a sickening crunch.

Silence reigned as the troll keeled over, its back arched like a gymnast because its feet were still stuck in stone of the corridors floor. There was another thud as the troll's head struck the floor and Eric started laughing. "What a rush! Man, do I feel better!"

There was a crack as Harry hit him over the head. "What in the bleeding hells was that for?" the dark haired boy roared at him. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"Jeeze Harry, did you really have to hit so hard?" the auburn redhead whined.

"YES!" Harry and Hermione screamed in unison. "What in the world gave you the bright idea to take on a fully-grown mountain troll on your own?"

"…Well it seemed like a good idea at the time," the boy muttered. The five of them looked at him in disbelief, Blaise muttering about how he should have been in Gryffindor. "Figure better to work out my frustrations on something that could take a few hits than that berk Weasley, no offense Fred and George," Eric finished still rubbing his head.

He was about to continue when the sound of running footsteps rounded the corner heralding the arrival of the teachers. McGonagall went white at seeing the size of the troll and braced herself against the wall, clutching her chest while Professors Sprout, Flitwick and Quirell simply gaped. Dumbledore was the first to come to his senses, demanding to know what had happened. Eric watched as the five of them tried to speak at once before stepping forward and gesturing silently to silence them.

"This is my doing professor," he said clearly, causing everybody to look at him in varying stages of disbelief.

"Explain," Dumbledore said sharply as Snape stumbled into the corridor, his leg bleeding from a big tear in his robes.

"As I was leaving the great hall under your directions, I saw the troll at the end of a second floor corridor and followed it. The rest of them followed me, trying to convince me otherwise." He looked back at the hulk and shrugged.

"My lord, Mr. Stark!" Minerva McGonagall burst out, her voice higher and Scottish accent thicker than usual. "Why not send for a teacher!? You could have been killed! A twenty-foot mountain troll isn't something a first year should be dealing with, not even with your friends as support! What if you couldn't have handled it? You'd have been putting both friends and yourself at risk with your foolishness!"

"I had it well in hand, professor," Eric said, causing Flitwick to raise an eyebrow. "Though I am impressed how well my friends were able to work together and work themselves into my attack."

"Well," Flitwick broke in, voice bright. "All's well that ends well, I think I'll handle my own students punishment. Ten points to each of you, save Mr. Stark; if you'll all head off to your common rooms I'll deal with Eric in my office." He looked around at the rest of the teachers, grinning madcap. "I trust that's alright with the rest of you? Good!" With that, he walked off, Eric on his heels.

As the teachers dispersed, sending them off to their common rooms Hermione stopped them by a set of stairs. She hugged Blaise, the twins and Harry, planting a kiss on the dark haired boys cheek. "Thank you."

"What was all that for?" Blaise asked.

"You all stood up for me," Hermione said quietly. "That's never happened before. I know you three were helping Eric plan to get back at Ronald for what he said, and Harry, he used to be one of your friends. Normally it's people leaving me because of their friends, not somebody giving up a friend for my sake." She paused, hesitating for several moments before finishing. "It's sort of… nice." Then a look of panic came over her face. "N-not that I'd ask any of you to leave your friends over me! I wouldn't do that! I kn…"

Harry put a finger to the bushy haired girl's mouth as he'd seen Eric do on occasion, quieting her and turning her cheeks pink. He really had to figure out why that was, he thought off hand. "It's alright, Hermione. Ron's not a particularly nice person, we were getting distant anyways. Ron's constant treatment of you and Eric was just part of a building problem." He turned to Fred and George. "I just hope this doesn't mean I can't be friends with the pair of you. It's a real pleasure to work with you."

The twins looked at each other. "I suppose we—"

"Could be convinced—"

"To continue this association," they said smirking.

"Of course you'd have—"

"To do something for us," They finished their grins becoming Cheshire.

"How positively Slytherin of you…" Blaise drawled. "_Weasling_ a favor out of a friend when you know you'd never hold something like that over his head."

"Oy! Weasels eat snakes, I'll have you know!" Fred sputtered.

"Peace, peace!" the Greek boy said, holding up his hands and laughing. "I'm off to my common room. Wouldn't want all the good parts to be singled out by the upper forums before I get there," he said, walking off.

The redheads turned back to Harry, their sour expressions fading to serious masks. "Nah, we just want your help with a few pranks is all."

"I guess I could do that," Harry agreed slowly.

"Me too," offered Hermione, holding out her hands. The twins looked at them in surprise for a moment and shook them. Hogwarts was about to get really interesting.

**_1234567890987654321_**

AN: I don't particularly want to follow canon, but if I can't reason a damn good justification of why my butterfly's would stop or alter something I won't do it. In case I didn't explain things properly; removing Neville from the lions meant he wasn't there for Malfoy to pick on, but he's still Malfoy, who at this stage is still a little ponce. That being said, he WOULD have done something and the next logical target would have been Hermione. That being said, this changes things. Harry didn't meet Malfoy on the train because Eric traumatized Longbottom and he forgot about seeing harry, they didn't meet in the entrance hall because those who knew Harry hadn't started talking yet. They met in potions class instead and weren't given much chance to talk so the Rivalry didn't really start. But during flight class Malfoy turned on the first available target. Someone who was emotionally and physically weak and a 'know-it-all mudblood' to boot. Since Harry's already friends with her at this point he saves her wand and deeply dislikes Malfoy, prompting the challenge to save face which he didn't go to just like in canon. Only this time, Hermione and Neville weren't there with them, so no fluffy till the end of the chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The walk to Flitwick's office was quiet and uncomfortable as Eric's mind buzzed with thoughts trying to figure out what was going on. Since he had come to the school the professor had never been particularly kind to him despite his usually cheery and cartoonish demeanor every other time he'd witnessed someone interact with the midget. Right now however the gnome radiated none of the palpable aura of menace he'd done on other occasions. Was he about to learn the reasoning behind it? What had caused it to begin with?

Flitwick closed the door to his office and conjured Eric a seat with a flick of his wand. Looking apprehensively at it Eric sat down in the surprisingly comfortable seat and matched gazes with the diminutive professor.

"Did you know, Mr. Stark, that before beginning my tenure at Hogwarts I traveled the world dueling circuit?" he said after a few moments, pulling out a crystal bottle of some pungent amber liquid. "I've fought American's, Chinese, Australians, Arabs and Africans. I became champion on multiple occasions in most of their regional circuits as well. As such I'm always interested when I come across a new form of battle magic." He took a big drink from the glass he'd been swirling around in his hand and grinned, madcap, at Eric.

"I sensed a lot of magic in that corridor, but no recognizable signatures." He gave the boy a piercing look. "None of you had wands out either."

"There's a simple explanation for that professor," Eric said with a smirk.

"Oh, I know!" the little man returned jovially, causing Eric's brow to furrow in confusion. "When Professor Dumbledore came to me at the beginning of the year and said I should keep a close eye on you naturally I wanted to know why! My Ravens are normally the most responsible of students and it's not as if Stark is a wizarding name. Then he told me about McGonagall's reports of a mastery over wandless magic, your obvious trust issues and various similarities to another student of ours who caused… some unusual problems."

The man shrugged his shoulders as Eric perked up. _So that was it. He wanted me close so he could keep an eye on me. It was odd that someone would be so altruistic. Was McGonagall in on it? No, that doesn't seem like her. Dumbledore though, gonna have to find something to really twist his gourd about before I go. Spy on me will you?_

"I didn't particularly believe it then, but I agreed to keep a weather eye and a firm hand. Imagine my surprise when Penny comes to me with a request to start a sorcery club with you at the spearhead!"

"To be fair, sir," Eric broke in, "Penny's our adviser. She set up our premises and handles the newbies. I'm just the teacher."

"An artist as well, if Penny's descriptions of your cadets intro presentation is anything to go by. I wouldn't have believed her if she hadn't shown it to me in a pensive."

"Su calls it the 'establish your creed' speech; I just call it 'shock and awe'. Always worked in my street show. They say that necessity is the mother of all invention and when it keeps you fed a person can get pretty creative," Eric countered blushing slightly.

"Be that as it may, it's both impressive to find a first year capable of taking on a full grown mountain troll and pathetic that one with that level of power took so long to put it down." He gave Eric a piercing look as he started to protest. "As such, you're going to tell me _everything_ that happened and do a breakdown of your performance. I know when someone is lying to me and there were things you weren't saying. So, let's get to work."

**_1234567890987654321_**

November dawned bright and cold and brought with it an influx of students, both old and new, to Eric's weekly sessions. Eric's students now consisted of all the first year Claws and Puffs, the first year Lions (Ron excluded) and half of the first year Snakes. Those who held back only did so because they refused to believe a mudblood, let-alone a first year, could possibly teach them anything. Then there was Penny and her boyfriend Percy, the Weasley twins and their friend Lee Jordan and. to Eric's great surprise, Hufflepuffs rising star, Cedric Diggory. The boy had steadily been making a name for himself by competing with his years Ravenclaw's for a spot in the top five students of the year three years running, was the seeker for the Puffs and social leader for his year and those below him. The kid was practically the paragon of his house and he still had 3 years to go.

Eric sat in the quidditch stands watching Harry's first match with Hermione as he contemplated the recent turn of events. It was fairly interesting for the most part Eric mused as he watched the twelve primary players zip around after the quaffle like a flock of budgies attacking a falcon. Aside from the aggression it looked so… graceful. Eric was almost willing to admit he was jealous of them. He looked down at his lap and picked at his robe for a moment considering. He morphed the material a few times, changing the color and mode of dress, thinking.

Ma'am Hooch had mentioned a number of charms that were placed on brooms to allow the riders to fly, but as much as he wanted to do so he despised the school brooms and didn't know anybody whom he could simply borrow one from. Of his friends the only 3 with brooms of their own used them too much and too often for it to be a worthwhile endeavor and convincing someone else to lend him their broom regularly seemed a bit of a stretch. Add to that his general impatience, the fact that first years weren't allowed to have their own brooms normally and his doubt that Dumbledore could simply be convinced to allow someone he regarded with suspicion a broom waiver, he couldn't buy one until the coming summer and that simply wouldn't do.

His cloths however offered another angle of attack. His robes were an enchanted jumpsuit that could reform themselves to any manner of clothing the wearer desired so charming something, say a pair of boots, to fly like a broom shouldn't be too terribly difficult. Add and animate little wings on the sides and he could market them as having come from the Greek God Hermes! Hah! The wizarding world would pay a bundle for that, the silly buggers!

Eric was busy grinning and devising an entire line of enchanted items when something, or rather someone started poking him in the side. He followed the hand quickly back to Hermione and raised an eyebrow. "Eh?" he said intelligently.

"Look up," she said, voice quiet and harsh with worry. "There's something wrong with Harry!"

Following the bucktoothed brunettes pointing Eric quickly found Harry sitting on his broom overlooking the pitch as he had been for the last half hour. His broom was vibrating and the boy had a look of intense concentration on his face. "That is odd," Eric replied, eyes glazing over as he entered his mindscape. Making sure he was sufficiently submerged between trance and reality Eric sent a probe out towards hi friend. _Harry! Everything alright up there?_ he asked, thoughts conveying his apprehension far better than words could describe.

_What?! Eric? No! Something's wrong with my broom, I'm keeping control of it but the damn thing's fighting me, like it wants to throw me off! Any suggestions, teach?_

_Give me a second._ Eric pulled back into his own mind and delved deeper into a proper trance. Once ready he sent his thoughts out again and found Harry. From there he looked at the broom the boy was riding, a simple task due to the boys own magic guiding his sight as it flowed in and out of the expensive wooden stick. He was about to start examining the broom when he noticed something odd - just as his friends magic was flowing in and out of the wood to keep him aloft, so more magic was flowing into it from another source.

Eric frowned, his anger rising. _Harry!_

_You found something?_

_Your broom isn't the problem, it's not trying to throw you off. There's another source of magic flowing into your broom. I'm going to follow it back to the source, but see if you can't find anyone who looks suspicious while you're hanging around, yeah?_

Eric began to put actions to words when he was brought partway back to reality by a hand gripping his shoulder. "Eric, Eric! I don't know if you can hear me with your eyes glowing like that, but I think Professor Snape is trying to jinx Harry's broom!"

"_I came to a similar conclusion._" The redhead replied, his voice eerie as it sounded in both her ears and mind. "_I was in the process of following it back to the source._" Hermione looked startled for a moment before speaking again.

"You can do that?" the girl asked, shocked.

"_It's an extension of what I started teaching you last Saturday,_" he replied, still using that creepy thought and voice speech. "_Hermione?_"

"What is it?"

"_I think we have a problem. The magic affecting Harry's broom is split between professors Snape and Quirrell. I can't tell if they're working together or against each other from this distance. Cutting one could cause Harry to regain control, the other might really throw him off, but again, I can't see from here which is which._"

Hermione looked shocked for a moment before getting a pensive look on her face. "I have an idea," she said and went into her own trance. Moments later the bludgers, which had just been hit by the Slytherin beaters towards a stationary Harry, veered off and shot past him moving ever faster as they headed for the teachers high box. Everybody cried out as the two baseball sized iron balls slammed into the potions and defense teachers' stomachs simultaneously.

As the pair folded over from the impact the crowd screamed and Professor McGonagall screamed foul over the microphone. Eric looked at his mousey friend, respect shining in his eyes. "Very nice casting," he said, grinning wide as Harry shot off towards another part of the pitch. "Dual focus casting on enchanted objects with separate end targets, to boot," he said, praise evident in his voice even without projecting his thoughts toward her. "Keep this up, apprentice, and I might start having to call you colleague by Christmas rather than summer break as I'd expected."

Hermione blushed and lowered her head in acceptance of the praise. The frizzy haired bookworm was still blushing when she looked up moments later to hear Lee Jordan calling an end to the match. Harry had caught the snitch bringing Gryffindor to victory over Slytherin, 180 to 90.

Eric trailed slowly behind Hermione as she and the Weasley brothers bounced up and down around Harry, hugging him and howling Gryffindor's victory. He watched as Hagrid came up to congratulate the team, clapping everyone on the back with his trashcan sized hands and sending them stumbling. As he got closer Harry broke away from the others and went over to talk to the man. Something he said made the half-giant stiffen and usher the boy off, walking quickly and looking suspicious as all hell. Catching Hermione's eye Eric followed.

**_1234567890987654321_**

They caught up with the pair at Hagrid's door and invited themselves in with a smile and wave. Hagrid looked torn for a moment before ushering them in and closing the door. "**So, how do you know about fluffy?**" Hagrid asked as the door was closed.

"Fluffy?" Eric asked.

"Giant three headed beast they've got on the third floor." Harry informed him. "It's the reason they told us the hallway would kill anyone who tried to use it beginning of the year. I overheard Snape talking about it after class yesterday."

"**E's no monster, Fluffy is; E's a **_**Cerberus**_** I got off a Greek chappie las' yer. Sweet as can be, Fluffy is! People just don understand beasts is all!**"

Harry gave the giant an odd look before continuing. "If you say so, Hagrid, but he took a chunk out of Snapes' leg and with what Hermione told me the two of you found I'd bet my Nimbus he was trying to get past it."

"**Thas ridiculous!**" Hagrid scoffed. "**why wud 'e waner do tha?**"

"You picked something up from Gringotts the day you rescued me from the Dursley's." Harry countered. "I saw your paper when you invited me over for tea that first Friday, the vault you took the package from was the same one the article said was robbed and now we not only have a great monster in the middle of a school full of kids, someone's trying to get past it." The scared boy explained. "Only logical conclusion is someone's trying to steal the package from its new guardians."

"I wouldn't discount Quirrell either." Hermione said nervously. "Eric told me half the magic affecting your broom came from him and you yourself told me the man was in Diagon Alley same day the vault was robbed. Coincidence is often lack of information masquerading as chance; Denis Lindley."

Hagrid was spluttering as the two of them spoke. "**Snape and Quirrell are two of the teachers protecting the stone! They're no' 'bout ter steal it!**" the enormous man thundered.

"Higher class jewel and art thieves often work for security consulting firms in the civilian world," Eric piped in, taking another sip of his tea. "Out of curiosity, what kind of stone are we talking about here? A stone tablet of ancient power? Enchanted jewel with special powers?" Eric smirked behind his tankard of Earl Grey as the big man flinched. "Or just a large gem someone could trade for ownership of Northern Ireland, like the Hope diamond?" he continued without missing a beat.

"**Naw why wud you say da?**" the bushy haired man said shiftily.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the pair of them. "Because Eric's read too many civilian fantasy writers," she scoffed, "it's always something like that! Really."

Hagrid relaxed as Eric's smirk, still hidden by the tankard Hagrid had handed him his tea in, became a full on grin. Target acquired.

**_1234567890987654321_**

Dumbledore sat in his office brooding. Everything was…unraveling. He plucked a lemon drop out of his crystal candy dish and popped it into his mouth, worrying away at it as he thought. It was hardly as if things were untenable though, he just had to play things a little more carefully was all. When he had originally sent Harry to the Dursley's he had known the boy was going to be in for a rough ride, but what Franz had revealed to him had been, quite frankly, appalling.

The boy's relatives had not been his first choice, not by a long shot, but the situation being what it was he had been sure it would be the best place for the boy. He cursed Black for several minutes straight, turning the air purple as he moved into some of the more esoteric languages he knew. He had fully intended to give the boy to his godfather that night but by the time he'd found the blasted scruffy tramp he was blasting apart a street full of Muggles with a mountain of evidence building over his tousled spikey head. Even now he held some niggling doubts about the man's confession, but the case seemed airtight as far as the ministry had been concerned.

He had been ready to take the boy in himself; all the better to prepare him for the impending return of his old apprentice, but that was not to be either. By the time he got to the ministry and dug out the paperwork the boy's status as The Boy Who Lived had become public and numerous forces within their government were clamoring to take the boy as a political trophy. Dumbledore scowled darkly at that. Nothing good ever came from a spoilt, arrogant ponce when it was time to put the hammer down. He had tried to push the decision in favor of one of his lieutenants, but it very quickly became apparent that the vote was split between Madam Bones, Minister Bagnold's apprentice Fudge and Bartemius Crouch; and not in Madam Bones' favor.

Of the three he had almost been ready to support Bones, the woman was brusque and willful, but they shared many of the same values and opinions, so it could have, at least, been palatable.

Then he had remembered the Evans'. Lilly had a sister who had written him often years ago, begging to be accepted as her sister had, but the poor girl was a squib, unable to even gather sparks off a single wand in Olivander's store. Lilly had sacrificed herself to offer her son protection from the killing curse, surely blood would offer him other protections as well? That had been the idea when he told Minerva of his plans and it had worked, sort of. Squib or not, Petunia Evans, now Dursley, had still possessed enough power for the protection Lilly had given her son to follow the ties of blood and enshroud the Dursley household against those who wished its occupants harm.

He hadn't expected Minerva to spy on the family all day either, but he'd been pleased when she gave him a report on the family. The dislike magic due to Petunia's lingering childhood resentment of Lilly, but they'd seemed normal enough otherwise. He'd expected when leaving the boy there to return ten years later and find an intelligent, independent, healthy boy; if a little socially awkward and attention starved. Essentially, he'd expected to find the boy's friend Hermione, after all, both of his parents had been genius's scoring O's on the majority of their NEWT's. They had held seven mastery's between them at the time of their deaths, for Merlin's sake!

Harry on the other hand was withdrawn, quiet, and until very recently, decidedly average in his schoolwork, relying on the talents of much more capable friends. That was the reason he had allowed Eric's Saturday classes to continue in the first place, in what seemed like a vain hope that it could shake the boy out of his stupor. It was a gamble that seemed to be on the verge of paying dividends if his professor's reports were any indication.

Unfortunately, the turnaround he had desperately prayed for seemed to have come with the loss of his mole in Potter's circle. Ronald Weasley had seemed a straightforward investment at the time. He was the sixth son of the seventh Weasley brother, overshadowed by his siblings, desperate for something to set him apart from the herd and most importantly the right age for Albus' plans. He'd long used the family for their prodigious talents, large family numbers and staunch affiliation with the light. When he'd gone to Molly about using her family to anchor poor Harry to the light, as his earlier plan with Petunia seemed to have threatened that, Ron had melted out of the shadows and promptly volunteered. A short interview with the boy over a game of chess had been enough to convince him. While not nearly as bright or outgoing as the rest of his family Ronald Weasley had shown a marked talent for strategy on the board and an uncanny ability to read people off it. Given these abilities Albus had hired the boy and given the two Weasley's a plan.

It had been simple, or so he thought. Molly would take them through Kings Cross Station in search of Harry and discretely help the boy onto the platform instead of using the flue network like in previous years. This plan of action was aided by Hagrid's absentmindedness in not telling the boy how to get onto the platform in the first place. Once identified, Ron would follow the young celebrity onto the train, join his compartment, and subtly encourage a friendship between them. Hagrid's report on the Dursleys being what it was the boy would likely latch onto Ron and never think to let go.

Dumbledore huffed moodily, as if things could have been that easy. The entire setup had nearly been ruined from the get-go according to Franz. If the hat was to be believed, and it had never been wrong before, Ron had been a solid Slytherin; no questions asked, only the redhead's stubborn refusal to go to the proper house had allowed him to become a Lion.

And then, _this_ fiasco. Potter and Stark had nearly gotten themselves squashed by Quirrell's troll because Weasley couldn't stomach having competition. If he'd relied solely on Ronald's reports the Stark boy was a clear and direct liability, he had fouled up Harry's initial endearment to the Weasley's, done his best to intercede where Ron's placement was concerned, encouraged the boy to befriend Albus's old house (oh, how they had fallen), and been a constant pressure on Harry to practice the dark arts and abandon him.

The truth of the matter was a bit harder to wrap his head around. While it was indeed true that the boy was at the center of many of Albus' collapsing machinations and had effectively ousted Ronald, and thus, Albus' most direct influence to the Potter boy, the Stark boy's influence had actually furthered the old man's dreams well beyond what he had been willing to hope for at the beginning of the year. Both Lilly and James had been forces to be reckoned with on many fields. Social, academic, inventive and adventurous, the pair of them had been like yin and yang, giving him so many hopes for their son that had seemed dashed against the rocks. Under Eric's influence Harry had begun to reach out, making friends in all four houses. Harry's grades and general grasp of concepts in his classes had begun to improve and upon the event that had ousted Ronald Harry had shown both a remarkable ability for command and the power to back it up. A power, it was more than worth noting, that had originated with young master Stark.

The question now was, what should he do about it?

**_1234567890987654321_**

Penelope Clearwater growled as she felt someone sitting down on her couch in the Aerie and jostling her arm. Taking out her wand she syphoned off the mess the movement had caused. "I suppose you have a very good reason for…" the blond prefect growled she straightened up to stare down the disturbance. "Eric!" she said, startled. "I hadn't expected to see you until next week! Are you rescheduling this week's class? You really should have known about the quidditch match being in the way, it's open knowledge after all," she finished, tone scolding.

Eric smiled at her. "Sorry about messing up your essay," the boy replied, voice unusually soft "I was wondering what you could tell me about the enchantments on racing brooms. I could look it up easy enough, but I get the feeling I'm going to need help learning how to cast them."

Penelope looked at the boy speculatively. Why did he want to know about broom enchanting? I was an odd enough subject to study, most people wouldn't want the hassles, simply going out and buying a broom or carpet for a few galleons. "Normally I'd say you couldn't cast them until fourth year at least, but considering some of the things I've seen you do I wouldn't doubt it too much." The slim blond shrugged her shoulders and leaned back in her seat, lifting her arms over her head and stretching.

"Brooms are, by and large, fairly simple creations. First used in the early 8th century due to their easy transport and concealment from muggles, early brooms were made to replace the Moorish imports of flying carpets. The history of their evolution is quite fascinating from an arithmetic standpoint but at current brooms typically have 10 layered enchantments. Keep in mind however that due to the international nature and long history of magical flight, brooms and otherwise, each of these spells has over a thousand variations and arithmancers are constantly improving them and coming up with new ones. It's quite the business. First, there's the basic charms for flight, breaking and cushioning, because sitting on a broom would become uncomfortable in mere minutes otherwise. Then many brooms are enchanted for weight reduction, wind resistance, impervious charms to ward against the elements, seating charms to prevent the rider from falling off, a _wide_ assortment of anti-theft and anti-summoning charms and, while these are illegal in racing and quidditch, many brooms have impulso charms on them in case the rider needs to cross great distances at speed."

Pulling out a small scrap of parchment Penelope began writing down names of various books along with page numbers and handed them to him. "Most of these spells you could expect your average student to do by fifth year, sixth at the latest. Come back to me if you have trouble with them." The redhead nodded as he walked off, heading for the bookshelves lining the walls of the aerie. Smiling Penny turned back to her essay. It would be interesting to see what the boy did with this knowledge, though she had an idea, there was still a chance the boy may yet surprise her; he certainly had a talent for it.

**_1234567890987654321_**

Three weeks later McGonagall came around with a piece of parchment taking a list of people who would be staying behind for the Christmas holidays. Eric hemmed and hawed for several minutes before deciding to stay back. There was a lot he could be doing in Diagon Alley, but the Christmas holidays would have the castle mostly deserted, what better time to steal Dumbledore's precious?

Eric pulled out one of his many notebooks and opened it up, a critical eye roving across the designs therein. He'd had to go to the Hogwarts main library to find a book on broom enchanting but he was fairly sure everything would fit together nicely, and if it didn't? Well there was always Ma'am Pince. It was funny how so few people seemed to like the old lady. Sure, she was severe and very protective of her books, but a sugar quill here, a kind word there and a few books returned in pristine condition she was the nicest and most helpful person in Hogwarts.

Kinda like Professor M, hard frosty exterior but on the inside, she really was just a big softie. He hoped she liked the crate of different flavored sugar quills he'd ordered for her Christmas present.

Speaking of Christmas, Eric though as he looked up at the squad of four owls that had just landed on his plate of bacon and hotcakes. He pulled one of the packages out of the box and unwrapped it, examining the parcel for quality before untying and paying the owls a galleon each. The birds hooted appreciatively and hopped down the table to peck away at the sausages before departing. Calling for Squeezy, the kitchen elf, Eric sent the package up to his trunk where he would work on it later and headed for transfiguration class.

The lesson of the day was festive, Professor McGonagall had given them small metal balls and a spell to transfigure the shape and type of metal present. Eric's eyes lit up at the possibilities of such spells, but was told under no uncertain terms that metals such as platinum, gold, mithril, orichalium and silver were off limits due to the magical properties of those metals. Eric shrugged, even with such limitations the metal charmer could become their own machine shop.

Normally the redhead would have coaxed the room into a competition to see who could create the most intricate and detailed ornament as he did every class but today he was distracted, and everybody noticed. The class was almost unnaturally silent as everybody stared at the boy, waiting for his usual antics, but Eric was consumed with his notebook, going over his notes and designs for the enchanting he was going to be doing later now that the cloaks had arrived. McGonagall looked down at the shiny red Christmas bauble Eric had transfigured out of his steel ball and shrugged. It was acceptable work, a little fragile for the base materials it had come from but there was nothing overtly wrong with it that she could scold him for.

"Well?" she said turning to the rest of the class. "Get to work, unless you'd like to have homework over your holidays?" she asked innocently. The effect was immediate and as the children descended into a flurry of murmuring and wand waving she turned back to her second favorite first year. "Eric?"

"Oh, Professor! Is something wrong?" the boy said, looking up startled as her hand gripped his shoulder.

"That's what I was trying to ask you, Mr. Stark. You're not usually quiet. You and Ms. Granger are typically so exuberant."

"Oh, OH! No, there's nothing wrong, I've just been working on something for a while and the parts just came in. Besides, everyone here's in my club except Weasley, if they couldn't do this I'd be ashamed of myself as a teacher!" and indeed, most of the class had completed their transfigurations or were working on making their ornaments fancy.

"Mmm…" the elderly woman replied as she watched the aforementioned redhead succeed in making a steel bell. _Not the most imaginative_, she thought frowning, _and from the looks of it there's no change in metals either. But then Eric's own creation wasn't particularly inspired today either._ "Well, I do hope you'll be in a better mood when you finish with this project. I've come to quite enjoy your attitude in class," she said quietly, so only he and possibly Parvarti, whom he was sitting by, would hear. "It's refreshing to see students so willing to learn."

Eric beamed at her before going back to cross referencing his books about layering enchantments and brooms.

**_1234567890987654321_**

Eric was in the room of requirement a week later, one of the packages spread out on the table. He had just gotten back from wishing his friends happy holidays at Hogsmead Station and was looking forward to his vacation machinations. He giggled at the thought, he was rhyming - the holiday mood in the castle must be infectious or something…

The crate he had received was a rough pine construction holding nine folded leather dusters. Each of them was made of boiled and softened brown leather and, as per his specifications, folded over the torso with eight buttons, flowed all the way down the legs to the ankles with three partings up the sides and back, and a hood. They were all adult sized, but that would be taken care of shortly with a self-tailoring charm he'd found in the Hogwarts library.

Penny had been a great help with his project over the last month and a half, helping him find, plan and correct the layering of over a dozen charms to make this work. The girl had spent several long hours in this room explaining the arithmetic logic behind the order and placement of each of the charms and helped him learn to cast them as well. Hell, she could probably make one on her own at this point, but Eric still felt it would be a good Christmas present. Perhaps he should add a box of chocolates to her gift?

He shrugged as he went over the charms again, miming the wand movements and exact pronunciations'. Each variant charm on the list had been chosen for its dependence on the user rather than energy provided from the original caster. It wouldn't do any good for someone to be using it only for the magic to fail and peter out on them. Self-tailoring, self-repairing, self-cleaning, cleansing, a feather light charm targeted at the wearer rather than the coat, the flying charm, breaking, a charm that would heat or cool the cloak to counter the local weather and an overpowered version of the impervious charm that had been designed for family vehicles that both repelled the weather and, incase of crashes with objects too large to move, subtly repelled the flyer so that they would miss. Finally there were a set of trigger charms set to go off only when the user asked for them verbally. An antitheft charm that bound the item to its first wearer allowing them to summon it with a word, silencing and scent masking charms that had earned him a LOT of questions from Penny and a disillusionment charm, the last three of which would trigger on the commands 'hear no evil', 'old spice' and 'see no evil'.

The difficulty in layering charms according to Penny, at least, was in finding spells that wouldn't fight each other and then ordering them properly so that they'd build upon each new enchantment. 'Magic has a mind of its own' was something she told him repeatedly since he had begun the sorcery club, and the more magic you piled onto an item the more likely it was to develop its own ideas on what it would and wouldn't do.

Eric was hoping that the order of the charms and the magical properties of the number 13 would be enough to layer everything together properly and, should any personality develop, make it so that the garment would be concerned only with protecting its wearer.

Reading over everything for a seventh time and trying not to feel too silly and paranoid, Eric began casting, drawing the tip of his wand across the specified areas on the leather rather than the air as he spoke and pouring carefully measured amounts of magic into each spell. The process took nearly 30 minutes and left glowing patterns lingering on the cowhide, lines of power spider-webbing out to connect each of the enchantments as he poured power into the final charm, the flight spell.

Eric watched in awe as the magic began to connect together, lines of raw energy tapping together and hissing, like hot oil on a frying pan before joining in great flashes of color. The book had described something similar, but this was so _soooo_ much better than moving ink on a page. Finally the spells finished adjusting to each other and sank into the leather making the entire thing glow a soft blue-white before settling back to the simple earthy brown of soft leather.

Warily the dark redhead picked up the coat and shrugged it on slowly, nervous about the results despite a certainty it had worked. As the enormous garment settled, voluminous on his shoulders, the magic in the folds of leather flared up and began shifting, the material flowing around him and shrinking, readjusting and buttoning itself around him. Several seconds later he was dressed in a leather duster, perfectly tailored to him and comfortably snug. He stood there for a few moments giddy with relief and almost missing how the leather had warmed up to counter the frigid draft of the old castle.

_This. Is. Awesome._ Eric gushed, elated. Concentrating on the room he requested a full length mirror. Standing before it he spoke the command he hoped would work. "See no evil." He said, and watched in fascination as a rainbow of light flowed slowly down the hood to the tails of the coat, leaving a slightly distorted image of the room in place of his body. With shaking hands he pulled up the hood and disappeared completely.

Well, perhaps not completely, he considered. He could still pick out the shape of his body and his hands were clearly visible, but that could be solved by pulling in his arms and moving regularly. The sliding nature of the charm seemed to work better when he wasn't completely still.

Cancelling the charm he went for the final proof of concept. If this didn't work the coat would still be cool, but it would mean he'd failed and missed the entire point. He hopped lightly rising several feet and floating back down, confirming the feather-light charms continued existence and then concentrated. _Up._ He thought, looking up. Eric shot toward the ceiling and skidded along near the roof, changing directions as he came across something he might hit before he'd even had time to properly grasp that he was flying. With a whoop he took control of the experience and began dancing through the air, singing loudly and off key.

"Look at what's happened to me-e, I can't believe it myself! Suddenly I'm up on top of the world, it should have been somebody else! Believe it or not, I'm walking on air, I never thought I could feel so free-e-e! Flying away on a wing and a prayer, who could it be? Believe it or not, it's just me! Just like the light of a new day it hit me from out of the blue! Breaking me out of the spell I was in, making all of my wishes come tru-u-e!" he laughed happily, singing the theme song of Greatest American Hero as he spun around the large hall the room of requirement had decided to provide for him.

"This is so totally wicked!" he howled. He only wished he could see his friend's faces when they got theirs. With that thought in mind he floated back down to the work table the room had left out for him and shucked his cloak, carefully folding it and placing it in his pouch. He had eight more of these to enchant, maybe he could go flying with Harry and the twins after Christmas. He mused as he began labeling boxes for Harry, Hermione, Fred, George, Su Li, Padma, Penelope, and Blaise. He briefly considered making some for others, but decided against it. Everyone else could buy one from him, these eight were his closest friends and aside from McGonagall and Flitwick, the only ones he felt any real closeness to.

It ended up taking him two more days to enchant all of the cloaks and send them off, only having the stamina to create three of them a day. He shuddered to think what it might have done to him if he'd tried to do it all without a wand. With each new spell he learned in class his control and arsenal expanded, but it still to a lot to create anything new with his wandless skills. As much as he hated it he was beginning to see why wizards preferred wands so much over his more honest way of doing magic.

**_1234567890987654321_**

The days leading up to Christmas were a blast, with only one other person in the Aerie he had the tower to himself and often stayed up late playing reading or playing wizarding board games with Harry and the twins. He gave them a tour of the tower, laughing at their envious expressions as he showed them the rookery and its special rooms. Fred and George vowed to visit more often so they could use the potions lab for pranking supplies as getting Snape away from the student store cupboard when they were experimenting on new designs was a chore. Eric reminded them about the room's unusual password system and was shocked speechless when the freckled bandits took him outside and answered question after question. The damn door often had Claws stumped and waiting outside the door for someone to get a clue, even HE sometimes had trouble!

When he asked them how they were managing so well they replied with identical superior smirks, "We invent new potions and charms every other week for a lark and we're only third years. You figure it out."

Eric gaped at the pair of them, torn between envy, worship and depression. His expression was so funny Harry was still laughing at him all the way down to the great hall for dinner. It took him until he was most of the way through dessert to get over it. _Like attracts like._ He decided, if he couldn't be the only special one it was best that they were his friends, he seemed to be building quite a collection of those. Harry had his instinctual grasp of magic and was a raging powerhouse on top of his historic tragedy's, Hermione was even smarter than him though she focused on book learning and control more than the actual magic side of things and Padma and Su weren't far behind her and now Fred and George were revealed as genius inventors.

Eric stiffened, _if this keeps up I'm going to have to step up my game to keep up with my own friends…_ it was a sobering thought.

**_1234567890987654321_**

December 21st 11:30 PM

Eric stood outside the door of the third floor corridor, thieve's tools in his pocket and a pan with three steaks, shrunken, in his hand. In the legends Heracles and the other heroes bested THE Cerberus by offering it drugged food and for once he saw no reason to break with tradition. The pan he'd shrunken for ease of transport help a trio of large raw steaks from the kitchens. Each of the three had spent the last week marinating in the strongest sleeping potion he could wrap his head around, the potion seeping deeply into every fiber of the thick slabs of meat. Setting the pan down, he pulled out two pieces of metal and slid the picks into the lock. He quickly found the catch and pushed it aside, turning the other pick until the bar slid free of the doors frame.

Opening the door he slid inside and closed it quietly, floating the tray of steaks behind him. Taking care not to look at the dog, he'd just rousted from its nap he reversed the charm on the pan and offered the sides of beef to each of the three heads in turn. The looked between him and the dripping meat several times before **whuff**ing sedately and snapping out at the morsels. He allowed the dogs to chow down on the meat from his position at the door watching them closely. As their heads began to droop again he went over to the left most head and began to scratch one of the dog's massive ears. It moaned briefly, the middle head panting and the third yawned but otherwise they didn't respond.

Pleased with the results Eric began slowly floating the great beast away from its position where it half covered the trapdoor that led on to the treasure room and activated the disillusionment charm on his cloak. Opening the door he drifted down the shaft and closed the door, sealing it with the mass of its guardian.

As soon as the door was closed behind him Eric created a small ball of light with his power that hovered just beyond his palm. When he got to the bottom of the shaft he found himself hovering in a room covered with vines. He shrugged, and floated past it towards the next door. This one wasn't locked and Eric entered softly as he could. The room was dimly lit with a light source high overhead. Hundreds of shapes glittered around the ceiling making the boy nervous. He moved toward the third door and found it locked. Pulling out his tools he opened this door as well and closed it softly behind him.

The fourth room held something he didn't expect at all. A gigantic board set for wizards chess. Eric stood in the middle of the board, invisible, silenced and spluttering. "This is completely out of left field." He said to no one. Shaking his head the last Stark strode towards the black side of the board, only to step back as the pawns raised swords to bar his path. Frowning he took to the air only for the Rooks began firing at him when he tried to pass the barrier again.

The redhead growled deeply. He'd been hoping to be able to get through without causing a ruckus; he was a thief, not bloody Indiana jones! Though he wouldn't mind being Lara Croft he considered briefly, she was hot! Shaking his head free of perversion he considered the problem. Playing his way across the board was possible, it wasn't as if he was unfamiliar with the game and though he lost to Ronald whenever they played, much to the jeering pratt's amusement, he wasn't bad at it either. The problem was, playing his way across the board would be loud and obnoxious and would most certainly call the more human guardians to investigate. While he might not trust Dumbles to allow any of his teachers to know the full range of protections down here the headmaster was by far the most dangerous of the lot and likely the first to come should any alarm be raised.

Eric looked to the sides of the board where the rubble of a previous match, possibly the security test, lay. A grin spread itself across his face. What proper thief would he be if he didn't cheat? Levitating one of the stones Eric began to shape it, the marble flowing beneath his fingers until it looked like a rifled bullet the size of his head. Taking off again Eric drifted near the white pieces and began slowly spinning the stone. Pouring more of his power into it the floating sorcerer slowly but surely removed all of the impurities from the rock. He mended the fault lines, removed the bubbles, mended cracks and sealed stress points, making sure it was as hard and solid as it could be without special charms he'd yet to learn. Satisfied with his work the stone began to spin faster and faster until the rifled groves blurred, becoming smooth to the eye, a backwash flowing over him and threatening to remove his hood. Glaring at the black king, the floating boy began gathering power at a point just behind the spinning rock and shaping it into an impulso spell. As his control on the level of power began to waver he let loose. The bullet tore through its target with a roar of stone on stone and the piece fell to the ground, crown rolling out to the middle of the board.

"Sha Ma'at!" Eric said clearly. King death. It was the original epitaph for the Persian game that would eventually become chess and he felt it appropriated given what he'd just done. _Take that_ he thought as he flew through the unmoving black pieces to the next door.

The fifth room was, in the small boy's honest opinion, the worst of all the challenges to date. The room smelled far worse than any sewer he'd ever had the misfortune to be in and was occupied by a trio of absolutely humungous trolls. Remembering his fight from a few months ago he took a leaf out of Blaise and Hermione's books, transfiguring the stone on the floor to bind them like tentacles before smashing them over their heads with their own clubs until their brains caught up with the multiple concussions. He hoped he hadn't killed one of them, he intended to put the floor back to rights on his way out and leaving to many signs of his passage would mean more to clean up should he get the chance to leave unmolested.

The next room was through a long low hallway and led to an equally small room with a potions rack. As soon as Eric stepped out of the archway and into the room there was a _whumph_ like a gas furnace lighting. Whirling around the junior sorcerers eyes widened to see plum flames blocking his path, all the way down the hallway. They didn't feel hot up close, but hovering the tip of one of his picks through one of the flames still turned the thing white hot.

"Bloody hell." Now that was a security measure. Testing a theory he walked to the other side of the room and approached the opposing hallway. It too roared to life, but the flame there was black, making Eric blanch at the color, memories of each time the dark flames had appeared rolling across his vision. He was trapped, like a rat in a furnace.

The grey eyed boy turned to the table with its row of flasks and vials. _It looked like there might not be a way to cheat his way out of this one_ he thought, picking up the paper that lay on the table with the bottles.

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,  
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,  
One among us seven will let you move ahead,  
Another will transport the drinker back instead,  
Two among our number hold only nettle-wine,  
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line  
Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore  
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:  
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide  
You will always find some on nettle wine's left side  
Second, different are those who stand at either end  
But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;  
Third as you see clearly, all are different size  
Neither dwarf nor giant hold death in their insides;  
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right  
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

A logic puzzle… Eric felt briefly insulted but then shrugged. Magic seemed to be largely intuitive and all the teachers seemed to favor rote memorization over understanding as a teaching method, this was probably Dumbledore's way at thumbing his nose at a world where too many too often seemed to deny logic.

Eric read the poem several more times pointing at each of the bottles in turn as he worked through the clues. Neither dwarf not giant hold death, he read, pointing at the third and last bottles respectively. Could be wine or passage, but not poison, good to know. To move forward neither first nor last are your friend. 1 possible danger, 7 sends you back. 2 and 6 are twins to taste, either those are wine or Dumbles is a lot more sadistic than I imagined… now there's a dark thought. Poison is always on nettle wines left side. Assuming 2 and 6 are wine, 3 and 7 are safe, that makes 1, 4 and 5 poison.

So, poison, wine, forward, poison, poison, wine, back. Time for proof of concept, do I get out or did Dumbles really build a better mousetrap?

He conjured a spoon and poured some of the largest flask into it. Levitating the spoon into the purple flames he smiled as it failed to burn or boil like his poor pick had. He picked up the smallest bottle and poured it into another spoon, frowning as the entire bottle only just managed to fill the metal bowl. It was a large spoon granted, but the potion was hardly a mouthful. Carefully pouring half of the dark liquid into its bottle the auburn haired boy levitated the spoon into the black flames and sneered. It worked, but there was so little of it. He wished he knew what potion the headmaster had gotten from his potions master to save himself from the dark plasma. Bringing the spoon back to himself he tested each of the other bottles with a pair of their own spoons and watched as they boiled away, consuming the spoons in a flair of white hot metal.

Eric sighed and drank the potion to move forward, grimacing. Oh! Oh, god! It was like ice! running through his blood, setting it ablaze just as surely as flame might. Waving his left hand through the ebon energy he felt it tickle across his skin and plunged forward the rest of the bottle in his other hand. When he stumbled out the other side of the flames the feeling of bitter cold ended and Eric shook himself, both glad he'd thought to bring the safety potion and horrified at the thought of going through that again. He liked the warmth thank you very much!

The room he had emerged into was large, enormous really, with numerous columns supporting a domed roof and a large open space with steps all around leading down like a roman forum. At its center was a simple pedestal upon which lay a red stone. It looked very much like a rough mined ruby through Eric's eyeglass. Surveying the rest of the room he found the walls to be covered in small runes, but nothing else interesting.

_Welcome Mr. Jones to your opening act_, he mused. The difference here was he was Belloq. He stopped short and pondered that, was he Belloq for taking it from Dumble-jones? Or was Dumble-Jones going to his Belloq as he made his way out of the pit? Or this third thief Harry had talked about? Was he Belloq or Jones? He was getting off track…

Eric moved toward the podium again before veering off to look at the walls, they were so interesting, all those runes. He wondered what they meant? Maybe he should stay here and…No! he was here for the stone! He turned around and pushed forward again before being distracted by something else. This happened several more times, each time he got a little closer before something would happen to either distract him or make him question why he was there to begin with, the effect becoming stronger and longer lasting as he got closer. Eventually he ended up back at the door, about to already stepping into the black flames without the protection of the freezing potion.

Panic welled up in him as he realized what he was doing and was too late to stop himself. Time slowed down as he stared into the dark energy, the faces of the boy's he'd killed when it first manifested flaking away to ash before him. _Ironic_ he mused, as his heart rate spiked pounding in his ears like a kettle drum. And then his foot landed, jarring him as time resumed its normal pace, the redhead stumbling against the wall of the hallway.

_It tickles_.

He looked at his arms, curtains of ebon energy flowed over them silently, both accusing and laughing as they flowed off his skin and merged with the plasma of the hallway harmless. Eric stared at the fire for several minutes before letting his head fall roughly against the wall. How could he be this stupid? He made black fire! It flowed off and around him and responded to his moods, of course it didn't burn him! He wondered briefly why he was still wearing cloths, with the exception of that time on the Hogwarts express his cloths had always burned away when the fire came… could it be the magical nature of the garments resisted the energy's corrosive power or was it specifically his magic that deterred them? He'd have to try again later with his mundane clothing, but for now he had to figure out the riddle of the stone. Damned protections had tried to kill him! He'd show them… and Dumbles! Just as soon as he figured out how… damn.

_So let, see what we've got to work with…_Eric thought as he sat down against one of the pillars overlooking the forum. _We've got a spell of some sort, probably tied to the podium, that makes it seem less important the closer you get to it. It could be tied to the stone I suppose, but then how would you ever use it? Hagrid's reactions indicated it was an artifact of power rather than a priceless gem and, honestly, he'd seen bigger stones in the hour glasses that tracked House points. Properly cut ones too._

So, stone of power, protective dais, can't get close. Or rather he had, close enough to snatch it even, but then things had gone slightly fuzzy and he'd found himself walking back into the flames where he should have died.

Remote access, then.

Concentrating on the winking light of the ruby he went through the mantra, gathered his power and tried to summon the stone. There was a flash of light near the platform, but nothing happened. Trying a different approach he reached out with his magic and tried to pull the stone toward him. It almost worked, the stone did move, but that same shield of light stopped it from moving too far. Instead, it fell to the edge of the platform and tumbled off the side, where it was caught by a shimmering globe of power.

Eric frowned. This was getting complicated. Bait and switch? That was usually how thieves did it in high security vaults… He pulled out his pouch and reached an arm deep into it. After rifling around for a few minutes he came out with the granite and glass orb that held the 223 goblin gold enchantments. Might be enough? Tossing the orb up and down Eric watched its lazy arc. What if the identifier on the shield needs more than just an equivalent exchange though?

Pulling out his stolen jeweler's spectacle cum spy glass he studied the roughhewn ruby, levitating and turning it so he could see every angle and dimension. Memorizing the design he began gathering sand from around the room, using the lesson on stone and glass transfigurations from earlier in the year to smooth the creation. Soon he had a clear white stone of very similar proportions and, best he could tell from this distance, with similar enough faults and dark areas to imitate his target. Setting the Sorcerer's Stone back on its plinth he went into a much deeper meditation and began the arduous task of transferring the energy from his granite orb into his new rock. The process took him nearly an hour according to his watch which now read 3:57 am.

When he finished the transfer he opened his eyes and starred happily at his brightly glowing stone, a shining orange mirror to his target. Applying his power again he began changing the coloring of the glass to try and tint it light red instead of orange. It took him several minutes but he managed it. Then he added dirt to the outer surface of the glass, making and filling microscopic pores until the glow stopped shining through quite so much. Satisfied he'd managed to forge a good rope-a-dope Eric got an awful, hilarious idea. Eric pulled out a roll of parchment and a quill so he'd be less likely pinpointed as the culprit and wrote a message. Folding and shrinking it the long haired boy attached the note to the bottom of the stone with a sticking charm and disillusioned the paper. He's left to many signs that someone had been here and if someone came soon they'd figure out the deception no matter how hard he tried to clean up. But if he did make it out and Quirell or Snape or whoever they were working for eventually nabbed the gem it'd be an epic kick in the jewels.

Levitating the new rock over to the podium he pulled on the original and allowed its replacement to fall softly atop the shield, which glowed again, defining it's barriers as it was tested. Slowly but surely the rocks traded through the shield. Eric grinned as the Gem finally broke free and flew to his hand. Grinning, Eric dropped the rock into his pouch and left through the flames once more.

He stopped briefly in the potions room to replace the bottle of black flame-freezing potion and take a sip of the purple, retract the binding stone tendrils into the floor and away from the trolls and relock each of the doors on his way out.

It was a good night to be a thief, he decided. Now he was going to head for his trunk in Ravenclaw tower and sleep till dinner.

AN: Don't worry about seeing this again; even the smallest butterflies would royally fisk the hell out of canon if their authors took them seriously. Harry's still going to have his moment of epic and face off with Quirelmort, It just won't be down in the chamber.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Christmas morning Eric woke with a start to a rapping on his bedroom window. He was out of bed with a fireball in one hand and his wand in the other before he'd even focused his eyes and cleared away the grogginess of sleep.

"Whoa!" came a muffled voice from beyond the window.

"No need for"

"Any of that!" It was the characteristic stereo of the Weasley twins he realized as he quenched the merry orange flames in his closed fist. But why were they outside his window, he wondered, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

_Outside my window!_ The thought cut through the his mind like a knife making his grey eyes widen in shock. "Aww, man!" he groaned as he threw the window wide open, "I wanted to see your faces when the three of you opened those!"

Fred and George laughed out loud, while Harry just floated forward and smiled warmly at him. "Thanks Eric." The green eyed boy said softly. "I've never gotten presents before, this means the world to me."

"Yeah," Fred piped up "Thanks for the gifts, they're awesome!"

"Where'd you get them?" continued George. "Must have cost a small fortune."

"Never even heard of anything like them!" Fred finished.

Eric smirked widely. "I made them," he said smugly, grin widening further at their shocked expressions. "What? Didn't think you were the only people who could make new things did you?" Eric summoned his own coat and flew out the window to float in the air with them. "They're part of a set of nine. One for me, and then one for each of my closest friends."

He frowned suddenly, looking shrewdly at the three of them. "How much of the letter did you three read? I was certain I'd explained everything in the instructions."

"Instructions, he says?" George said swiveling to look at his twin.

"Shame on him, giving orders on Christmas!" Fred agreed.

Harry and Eric sighed. "Watch carefully." The other redhead intoned. Shooting forward slightly the smaller boy touched a finger to the freckled pair's chests and said. "Hear no evil." Both of them continued talking but quickly found they couldn't hear each other. Repeating the action Eric flew back a little.

"Not nice to silence your friends." Fred said, giving Eric a raised orange brow.

"Gonna get pranked for that," continued George.

"Eric wrote a short user's manual in the letter he sent with mine," Harry said, turning the twins attention to him. "Each of the cloaks come with 13 spells. Most of them are things you'd expect to find on a broom, but a few are tailoring charms and then there're three I'm sure have something to do with his time on the streets."

"Little ric's a street rat?" George asked looking surprised.

"I always told you guys how I used to be a street performer to stay fed and clothed…" Stark said drily, "Where did you think I lived?"

"Well, you look like a gypsy." One of the twins shrugged, Eric couldn't tell which one because they were flying around the pair in circles like a pair of sharks.

"Coulda been a carnie," said the other. "It'd explain why you were never hauled in for breaking the statute of secrecy," replied the other, matter-of-factly.

Eric opened his mouth and closed it several times. "I… never actually thought about it." He said finally. "I just remember being heckled by a lot of debunkers. After McGonagall told me about the restrictions I sort of figured they didn't come after me because they couldn't track wandless magic." The four of them hung there, considering, before Eric snapped up and started talking again. "Regardless, the cloaks have five primary abilities - safe flight, household sundries, and three abilities for sneaking around. The cloaks can disillusion, silence noises from the wearer, and cover your scent. I sort of goofed with the sleeves and tails though, they're not long enough to cover your hands or feet and the disillusion effect doesn't extend to your body, so they could be seen if you're not careful; your head too if you have your hood down."

"The commands for those abilities are Hear no evil, See no evil and old spice." Harry finished when Eric stopped.

"Old spice?" the pair asked in unison.

Eric looked down, red faced and kicked at the air. "Smell no evil didn't sound right and smell ya later just sounded dumb." He mumbled. The three of them started laughing again.

"Well, since you just woke up," Harry said

"And it's nearly noon" Fred continued.

"You probably haven't opened your presents yet!" grinned George.

Eric laughed. "Alright, let's see what I got, the auburn haired boy laughed. "I haven't had presents in years!"

The four of them drifted in through Eric's window and the Gryffindor's looked around in interest. "Kinda snug in here," one of the twins said behind him.

"I know you're not the only firsty claw," said the other.

"We get private rooms." Eric explained. "We still share a bath and a small common room though, kind of like renting a flat with friends." Grabbing a small pile of parcels in a tekekine grip Eric pushed out into the 'nest'. "Let's see, this one's from you two," Eric mumbled, suppressing a small shiver at their fox like grins. He sat down in one of the plush leather chairs and tore apart the wrapping. "A toilet seat?" he asked looking at the twins incredulously. The paper was still thick underneath, so he removed the porcelain to find a small assortment of what looked like toys and candy.

"Tricks, and such from Zonko's Joke Shop in Hogsmead." Fred explained.

"Most of it's pretty harmless," George continued "But you still don't want to be on the receiving end of it."

Nodding, Eric made a note to ask the pair for a detailed explanation of what each item was later. Shuffling through the floating packages he found Harry's next. It looked like a large biscuit tin and when he cracked it open he was immediately assaulted by a wave of frantically hopping chocolate frogs. Catching the lot of them proved to be a bit of a chore. Between the number of items he was already levitating and trying to keep a lid on the tin, which was now jumping like mad as the frogs had realized an avenue of escape, and trying maintain his glare, and not join the roaring laughter of his three friends. Eventually he caught the lot of them and stuffed the final chocolate coffee-bean toad into the tin and collapsed into the soft leather of the chair.

"That was mean…" he pouted, failing to contain a grin as the three of them lit off again, clutching their stomachs.

"Good one Potter!" one of the twins shouted, clapping the black haired boy on the back.

"Keep this up and we might"

"Invite you on a few of our"

"midnight romps!"

Shaking his head the third redhead flipped over the tin he had been about to put down and pulled off a large handful of shrunken trading cards. "Thanks Harry," he growled good naturedly as he canceled the shrinking spell and began flipping through the assorted witches and wizards. Stuffing the deck in his pouch for later he sought out Hermione's gift. Peeling away the wrapper he found a thick leather bound book titled Antonidus' Omnibus: a detailed anthology of forgotten magic. There was a card with the book where the bushy haired genius had found mention of the book in a tome she'd nicked from the restricted section and gotten them each one. He smiled briefly at the thought. Of course Hermione'd gotten herself a copy of a rare book, he'd only known the girl a few short months but already knew she'd never have been able to resist.

The rest of his presents were small things. Blaise had gotten him a small booklet on animagus transformation, Su had sent him Sun Tzu's the art of war, from Padma he had received a small picture book that sung Hindu lullabies when opened and Penny had given him 'a beginners guide to Numerology and Arithmancy'.

"I think I'm noticing a pattern here." George said wryly.

"Oh, shut up." Eric said, blushing. "I'm a Claw, and proud of it."

"Don't worry, ickle ricky," said Fred.

"We still love you!" grinned George.

Eric turned their hair to daisies and ran off laughing, chased by a howling pair of Weasleys and a laughing Harry.

_**1234567890987654321**_

The rest of the day was spent playing out in the snow, exploring the castle and making a general nuisance of themselves. Harry and Eric were comparing Christmas presents over a snow war with the twins when they were mysteriously hit from behind by a Slytherin named Andrea. She and Percy added a third side to the war which had begun to flag at that point. The girl was a holy terror with a wand and had everyone, even Percy grinning by the time they called it quits and trudged back up to the castle for the Christmas feast. The girl turned out be a year ahead of the bookish Weasley and something of a mentor on occasion.

They talked as the table filled with hams, turkey, flaming English puddings and cake; laughing and eating with everyone else as wine and spirits flowed freely up and down the table. Before leaving she asked the pair of them if they'd mind her joining their club. Harry and Eric were happy to accept the curvy black haired girl, bringing a surprisingly genuine smile out of Percy.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Harry sat on his bed holding one of his Christmas presents clutched tightly in his small hands. '_this cloak belonged to your father._' The note read. His father, oh how he wanted to know the man. '_he left this in my possession before he died._' Who's possession though? He'd tried talking to the teachers on occasion, but everyone was so sentimental, he knew they were all viewing the man with rose colored glasses and that made it hard to really listen to them talk about the pair of them, knowing nothing they said would really be the truth, but rather nostalgia. '_I thought it was high time it was returned to you, use it well._'

_Use it well._

He hadn't shown the cloak to anyone, Ron had already been rude enough when he'd seen Eric's gift and he wasn't sure he was ready to share something like this. Why did they have to fight so much? Why in the bleeding hells did Ron have to be such a prat? Couldn't he just apologize to Hermione? Harry felt a slight melancholy as he thought of his erstwhile friend. He'd never had many friends and as much as Eric had changed that for him he was still reluctant to have lost Ron, one of his first in this new world.

_Use it well_.

He stood up, ignoring Ron's snores and put on the cloak. Unlike Eric's coat this was true invisibility, the transparent, watery material didn't leave any distortions in the air and was large enough to completely hide a pair of full-grown men. Eric's gift was thoughtful and would allow him to fly during the summer, but his father's cloak gave him the entire castle on a platter. But where should he go? The kitchens? No, he wasn't really hungry after the small feast a few hours ago. He could check out the green houses, the higher numbered ones held some really fascinating stuff according to his Puff friends Neville and Susan. He blushed slightly at the thought of Susan before brushing the thought off. As cool as the place was, it was far better with friends. He thought about the forbidden forest for a moment. Eric and Hagrid talked about the creatures there every time they visited the giants hut, but again that was something that was better explored with a friend and he wasn't ready to share the cloak just yet.

_The library is a possibility too_ he mused as he pushed his way past the portrait of the fat lady. Ma'am Pince would be away sleeping and with the cloak chances of Filch or Peeves bothering him were reduced to nil. Despite Eric's apparent lack of interest he and Hermione were still itching to know what it was the three headed dog was hiding.

Harry spent the next hour walking around the castle opening doors he usually ignored, searching for anything of interest. Most rooms were unused classrooms, bringing him to wonder what had happened in the last thousand years to make the castle so deserted. The common rooms changed regularly, he knew, to accommodate the current student body, but the castle itself had remained largely static since it was originally built by the four founders. Eric and Hermione had finally gotten him to read 'Hogwarts a History' last month and he had to admit it was an interesting read, not at all like most of his dry stuffy text books. The pages had been full of anecdotes and stories about the founders, famous professors and headmasters, and various social upheavals that had touched the student body.

When the walls had first been raised, the quartette had barely had a dozen disciples, all of them had been the founder's personal apprentices, whom they had taught equally, choosing rather to specialize in things they had the most passion for rather than continuing the tradition of one master for everything. Over the next 50 years they had acquired a throng of nearly 15,000 students and teachers under one roof, many of them living at and providing for the castle, others forming the local village of Hogsmead. Due to the significantly advanced state of medical care wizards had over their civilian brethren the population of the British Isles had been a hundred to one, Muggles to wizards, within a population in the low millions.

Now their graduating classes were usually less than 50 and the wizarding population the country didn't even break twenty thousand, to the forty-two million living in England alone. Harry was caught up in his musings when he ran across a door that was already open. Curious he pushed his way inside. It was another unused classroom like the last few dozen, but here the desks were pushed up against the wall to make room for an enormous mirror. The ornate gold wrought frame stood easily high enough for Hagrid to use it as a full length dressing mirror. It's bottom had a pair of large clawed feet and it leaned up against a pillar. It was quite beautiful and he shuddered as he found himself gauging how much the piece might be worth. He was spending _far, __**far**_ too much time with Eric. His examination of the frame paused for a moment as he found an inscription across the uppermost frame.

_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

Looking at it confused for several minutes he shrugged. There was something about the words that tugged at the corner of his mind, but it was brushed aside as he pondered what was on the face of the mirror. There, bottom center, was a shadow. _Why was there a shadow?_ he wondered, furiously. His cloak was far in advance of Eric's gift, he'd seen the difference in the mirror in his dorm. Whereas his friends coat had left an indistinct distortion of itself unless you were moving quickly, his father's cloak hadn't even shown a ripple of whatever form was hidden under it no matter how fast or slow it was moving. He walked closer to the mirror only to have his image become progressively more distinct.

He stood right before it and saw himself exactly as he was, silvery cloak and all. He snorted. _An enchanted mirror_ he thought, _probably a magical security thing- only this world would make something capable of seeing invisible intruders that only worked when they stood in front of it. _He sighed and was about to turn away when more shadows began to appear in the mirror. One by one they resolved into figures of a man and a woman.

More invisible people, or some further security feature? Maybe he was about to meet the people this mirror was meant to warn? No, that didn't seem right. The woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air – they weren't talking to him so maybe she and the others existed only in the mirror?

She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair like Eric and her eyes —her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green — exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up all over, just as Harry's did and their faces were remarkably similar.

"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?" Harry saw his reflection pale and gulp as he looked at the pair with wide, almost bulging eyes.

The two figures just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry's knobbly knees — Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his life.

The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.

He tore away from the image and fled to the door. Turning back briefly he whispered "I'll be back…" and left.

Under his cloak Harry ran like the hounds of hell were on his heels. _He had to find Eric, the redhead would know what to do about this_ he thought frantically. And if he didn't have some obscure piece of knowledge or wisdom in that oversized head of his he'd know where to look for the answer. He only wished he had the boys coat so he could go faster. Harry almost stumbled and fell flat on his face as said garment materialized, flowing and folding itself around him, and he would have too if not for the enchantments on the leather. Catching himself on the impervious charm Harry shot forward like a bullet, over the banister and up two floors to the corridor that hid Ravenclaw tower.

Quickly snapping out an answer to the doors riddle, alive without breath; cold as death, never thirsty, ever drinking, all in mail, never clinking.

"Fish!" he spat after a few moments pondering. Harry charged through to Eric's room as soon as the wall opened.

Landing outside his friends door he stuffed his father's cloak in a pocket and banged on it loudly, remembering the boys reaction to being woken suddenly and not wanting to have to defend himself when he needed the boys help. The door opened mid strike to reveal the redheaded boy, brow raised, fireball in one hand, book hanging out of the other. "Oh, Harry?" he asked head tilted to the side. The boy doused the fireball and pulled an expensive looking watch out of a pouch on his belt. "I know I keep odd sleeping habits sometimes, but what are you doing calling on me at… 2 in the morning?"

"Put on your coat, I've got something I need you to look at."

The boy's brows raised even further and there was something dangerous in those flat grey eyes of his, but Eric did as he was told, marking his book and summoning the leathers around him. Harry watched curiously as the material flowed out of nowhere to enfold his friend like a supple brown wraith. "Lead on, maestro."

Nodding, Harry led his friend back to the room he had just left and pointed him to the mirror, explaining how he had found it, only editing his story slightly. His friend was visibly intrigued at the thought of not only finding a large, but potentially rare, artifact that could see thought his enchantments and stepped in front of it. Harry stood back for several minutes before getting impatient and walking up to stand beside him. He was about to ask the sorcerer what he thought when he saw his friends face. Eric's face appeared completely drained of blood and tears flowed freely down his cheeks. As his hand fell on the younger boy's shoulder Eric drew in a shuddering breath and turned to him, eyes haunted.

"H-how d-did you f-find this?" his friend asked, voice soft and stuttering.

"I told you…" Harry said, voice equally pained. "I was exploring rooms on my way to the library when I ran across this one. It showed me my parents. My family, for several generations back." He directed the boys attention to the inscription at the top. "I think that might have something to do with it." He explained, pointing. Eric read the words aloud, voice hitching as he stumbled over the pronunciations.

"You realize the letters are backwards, right?" Eric asked hiccupping. Harry looked at his friend stunned for a second before smacking himself in the face. Erised, letters backwards, spelled backwards it was desire, the inscription was in mirror script! He remembered the red haired boy talking about it during one of their weekly meetings, how Muggle literature thought it was used in curses and wondering if it really worked.

"Mirror script…" he groaned, "Flip it around it says I show y…"

"you not your face, but your heart's desire." Eric finished. "Yeah. It explains a lot. And as to how it sees us while invisible, it's probably the same mechanism that it uses to pull our deepest dreams from our minds. Some form of mind magic or other. I have to wonder how it got past my shields though. I never felt anything."

"So what did it show you?" Harry asked. "I saw my parents and what could have been the rest of my family. I'm fairly sure they're all dead now." he finished, a deep melancholy in his tone.

"I saw my mother." Eric whispered after a long pause. Harry looked back at his friend to see tears at the edges of his eyes again, his face turned to the mirror hungrily.

"That-that's not all there was, was it."

"No." the boy replied, quietly. "It wasn't." turning away from the mirror the redhead slumped to the ground and leaned back against the gold and glass, hugging his knees to his chest. "Looking at this," he continued after a while "I wonder how you're even still friends with a monster like me." He laughed humorlessly. "Hell, Weasley's a selfish, useless prat who doesn't deserve to look at you, let alone be in the same room with you, but me? Looking at this and knowing what it is, I can't help but wonder if I'm any better."

Harry sat down by his friend and put an arm around his shoulders comfortingly. "C'mon mate, you've always done right by everyone you could, me especially. What could be so wrong about what you saw? You said you saw your mother after all, so did I."

Eric chuckled bitterly. "You're a good friend, Harry. Better than I deserve." The boy drew in a deep shuddering breath and spoke tonelessly. "I saw my mother and someone who could have been my father, but there were others in the background as well. Remember how I told you how I got my dark fire? Four men came to my house Easter the year after I turned five." He hesitated again, only briefly before continuing. "They wore black robes and brandished sticks at her." He said, causing Harry to stiffen. "I only saw their faces for a split second, and could never remember them afterwards no matter how hard I tried, but I could see them clearly in the mirror. They were crucified, with black flames burning beneath them. My black flames." He paused again, shuddering. "I've no idea how an image in a mirror could convey an idea like that, but I knew they were mine. My mother was kneeling in front of me, hugging me, and she… s-she was forgiving me!" he spat, the tears back thick and fast. "She was forgiving me for being too weak to save her, for having the black flames, for coming to Hogwarts so I could train to be like the people that killed her. She even forgave me for seeking vengeance on those men."

Harry wracked his brain for what to do in a situation like this. It was hard to think of anything, but he vaguely recalled a soap opera Petunia liked that had something a little like this. Grabbing his friends shoulders, he pulled the long haired boy into his chest and simply held him as he cried. It was uncomfortable and embarrassing, but it seemed to help and that was all that really mattered.

"You're not a bad person for wanting vengeance." Harry told him when the boy finally stopped crying. "I probably would too if I didn't already know that the bastard who did her in was burning in his own personal hell." Harry gave a barking laugh, "it's how I got this scar, after all." He said pointing to the lightning bolt on his forehead.

"Sowulo." Eric whispered. "A sudden, violent, change for the better, the end of a war. A pity it took your parents' lives to do it." Eric muttered. "At least I got to know my mother for a little bit."

"I dunno," Harry said sadly "if you still feel the pain of her loss so deeply, maybe I was the lucky one for never being able to know mine before she was taken away."

"Don't say that." Eric whispered, pushing away from his green eyed friend. "Don't ever say something like that. Even for all the pain it brings there were a lot of good times too. Would you like to hear about her?" They sat there for several hours, listening to Eric telling stories about the beautiful doctor Maria Evelyn Stark and how she'd inspired her son with her kindness and the words - never stop learning, for only understanding brings compassion and through it peace. "of course, she wasn't nearly as much of a saint as I make her out to be. I didn't really understand it back then, but she and gran were always fighting. While they both loved me, they had very different views on the world and especially how to raise me."

He laughed. "I remember their last fight; It was Saturday, mum was out of the research lab for the weekend and Gran was making us breakfast. Gran was a god fearing Irish Catholic woman and was complaining about how mum refused to let her take me to church. Mums argument was the same as always, 'any god you have to fear is one you should be overthrowing, not worshiping.' "

They sat there in silence for several long minutes. "I better get back to sleep." Eric said finally. "I'll go and research this thing for you in depth tomorrow."

_**1234567890987654321**_

Dumbledore watched as the door closed behind the two boys, a thoughtful look on his face. He had learned a lot about the two boys. Listening to them talk had allayed a lot of his fears, whilst at the same time confirming others. Eric was not as firmly in the light as the old warlock felt safe with, but neither was he as dark as he had feared the boy to be and Harry, the dear child, was much better off than he had hoped for if that little display meant anything.

Deciding he had a lot to think about the old man dropped his invisibility spell and headed for his office, no longer feeling guilty that he had put a compulsion on the scared boys Christmas card.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Over the next week Eric and Harry split their time between the Library, the mirror room and horsing around with the Weasley twins. On the fourth day Eric and Ma'am Pince found a book on Mirror magic among the more esoteric texts in the Hogwarts main library and took it to the mirror room where Harry was waiting, staring at his reflection, a teary smile on his face.

"Oh, hello Eric. You found the book?"

"Yeah," the redhead said, worried. He gently pried his friend away from the glass and over to one of the desks, opening the book to the marked page. "The mirror of Erised" Eric read "is one of a set of seven mirrors crafted in the early 700's by a German sorcerer on commission by noted enchantress Claudia Elisabeth. While widely regarded as a cursed object due to their user's tendency to waste away in front of them, the artifacts were actually created as a teaching tool. The purpose and power of the Mirrors of Desire is their ability to reveal the deepest and most desperately held desire of the viewer, even if they do not consciously realize such on their own."

The chapter further detailed the magic behind the creation of the mirrors, a list of people known to have died before them and what it was that had so enraptured them. "The images in the mirror are neither real nor often practical" the book warned "and the happiest person in the world would look into the mirror and see naught but themselves."

"And astute observation" came an ancient, reedy voice from behind them causing the two boys to whirl around, wands at the ready. "And exactly why I must ask the pair of you to stop coming here. It doesn't do to dwell on dreams and forget to live." The wizened man smiled pleasantly, a **very** familiar kind of twinkle in his eyes. Eric felt the ancient man's probe skitter along the walls of his mind and saw Harry react to an attempted intrusion as well.

With a glance and a nod, the pair of them lowered their wands and projected toward the man. _With all due respect Dumbledore, it's quite rude to seek entrance to another's mind without garnering invitation,_ his mental tone quietly hostile.

_Headmaster Dumbledore, please forgive Eric, he is often… overzealous, but he does have a point._ Harry's own tone conveyed embarrassment and sincerity with an underlying hint of iron.

Albus raised a brow but spoke aloud none the less. "A fascinating tool legillimancy," the ancient man replied, tone offhand. "Regular use has an unfortunate effect of leaving the user, ah… incapable of holding the ability entirely in check. Though I must say, your defenses are the most unusual I've come across in my very long lifetime."

Eric looked at the man strangely, expression openly confused and Harry shrugged. Dumbledore sighed and, remarkably, explained. "For most, Occlumancy is a result of long periods of meditation organizing and focusing the mind so that when an intruder comes knocking all they find there is either an impenetrable barrier, a single thought used as a barrier or the skilled use of other unimportant memories to direct and deflect the searcher from important areas. Your minds are different, offering impassable walls of what appears to be strong emotion with a singular glaring flaw you seem to use as a door; but that is neither here nor there. I'm moving the mirror to its new home tomorrow. "

"A new home?" Harry asked, fear tingeing his voice. Dumbledore couldn't take the mirror away, he wanted to see his parents again!

"Yes, and I must ask you and your friend not to come looking for it either. It would be quite disappointing for two such promising young wizards to die before your times."

"Because of the curse?" Eric asked incredulously.

"Such as human nature is a curse," the white haired administrator said with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth "yes, because of the curse I suppose." With that the wizened man ushered the two boys out and closed the door behind them.

_**1234567890987654321**_

The rest of break passed in a blur as Eric worked like a man possessed. The mirror was gone just as Dumbledore had promised and both he and Harry had begun having nightmares about their own experiences with the relic. Harry refused to talk about his dreams, but from the towering fury and drop in magical control the boy had shown for a week afterwards it was clear enough how he felt.

Eric spent most of his time either helping Percy teach the sixth year Andrea about wandless magic or researching elemental conjuring and related attacks. Staying busy helped keep the nightmares at bay and he was determined to have evocation down to a science by the end of the year. His own way was wicked draining and while good for strength training he wasn't particularly keen on running out of juice if he ever got to find those men in the mirror. He had their faces, now he was determined to match names to them.

New Years passed with little fanfare and soon the rest of the school returned, with all that entailed - students, a feast, classes and drama. Eric turned bright red as each of the girls he'd given presents to insisted on pouncing on him and thanking him for their coats. Well, except for Penny, evil girl picked him up and hugged him like he was a cute little kid; it was horrible and by the way everyone was laughing he was sure his reputation had just taken a nose dive.

Despite this however his little club had continued to grow, adding, on average a new student every week. Things had gotten far enough that he was having to rely on other longer term members of the little group, particularly his inner circle, to assist in teaching the now wide range of skill levels present as there were now far too many other kids for him to give them his personal attention. Ninety three all told, ranging from most of the first and second years, to a fair number of the third and the occasional 4th or 5th year The lowest attendance of any of the houses was still the Slytherins and purebloods, in general, seemed to be the slowest to warm up to first attending the gatherings and then being willing to learn from 'that mudblood firsty'. He'd had to prove himself several times to a variety of students in one on one duels using his wandless magic. Nearly all of his opponents lost and even more went away angry, muttering to themselves about cheating, but a few stayed on, quite eager to learn his 'new' form or magic.

All things being even it was only a matter of time before he was called to the headmasters office. Eric wasn't to be disappointed however as two weeks after the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw quidditch match He was summoned from Ravenclaw tower to meet the old man shortly before diner.

Eric passed the gargoyle with Professor Flitwick and entered Dumbledore's office to find it already quite occupied. On either side of the room stood half a dozen people shouting at each other with Dumbledore in the middle futilely trying to play peacemaker. As his diminutive escort closed the door behind them Eric looked around the room trying to identify everyone. On one side stood Neville Longbottom, Pomona Sprout, a severe looking woman with a ridiculous hat and a bunch of stiff suited men with briefcases who gave the impression of being lawyers. On the other were several more legal looking stiffs, this time in robes, Professor Snape, Draco Malfoy and what looked like an older copy of the boy who he'd seen at the bank on his first trip to Diagon Alley. Mr. Malfoy he was sure, so that would make the weird lady on the other side…Neville's mom? No too old, Grandmother?

"Ah! Professor Flitwick!" Dumbledore shouted, cutting through the bickering like a drowning man looking for a life raft. "And I see you've located young Eric, good, good. Now perhaps we can put an end to this."

"If you don't mind my asking, professors, what's this all about?"

If Dumbledore had tried to answer Eric didn't know because at his words the shouting mass had turned their ire upon him and if anything had gotten louder! Eric stood there a scowl on his face for all of 30 seconds before diving for his power. There was a sudden wave of pressure and a telepath shout for silence that caused most of the room to stumble, turning white and grab their ears in pain.

"Now," Eric said slowly; ever the showman he causing the air in the office to vibrate as he spoke to keep everyone off balance "would someone like to tell me why I am here? Calmly, and one at a time if you please."

Dumbledore smiled, amused by his display and took the lead. "It would seem that there was an, a… disagreement… between Mr.'s Malfoy and Longbottom earlier today and Mr. Longbottoms response placed young Draco in the hospital wing for about an hour. Madame Pomphrey had him sorted out quickly enough, but Draco and his father are claiming lasting damages from use of dark magic. Naturally Augusta, Neville's Grandmother," he explained at Eric's look of confusion "protested. You were brought here because Neville sited you as his teacher."

Nodding, Eric turned to Neville and projected _Apprentice, explain yourself._

Neville looked startled for a moment, as Eric was rarely formal during meetings, before projecting back. _It was self-defense, Master Stark,_ he returned, projecting the memory of the confrontation alongside his words. _He attacked me, saying he was looking for someone to practice his hexes on and I didn't manage to avoid it. He hit me with a leg locker, so I blew him and his cronies away with the first lesson you taught us, telekinesis._

_You threw them all the way across the hallway?_ Eric returned, viewing the memory, an impressed expression crossing his face. _Well done Apprentice, impressive power. Sloppy form though, you wasted a lot of energy, but I'll forgive it as your first battle situation. _

_Yes, master._ Neville returned

_You know what this means though, don't you?_

There was a moment of hesitation before Neville's dejected thoughts flowed back across the connection. _I'll be joining the duelers next lesson, won't I?_

_Abso-fucking-lutely! Can't have any student of mine making a showing like that in public!_ Eric returned a grin on both his face and his thoughts. _I've been studying high level dueling recently and found, I think, a way to replicate that move where they bat away an opponent's spells with their wand!_ He giggled at the trepidation now pouring from the blond boys mind. _Don't worry so much Neville! Dueling is fun! And I won't pit you against anyone too far beyond your level unless you feel confident._

Turning back to the group at large Eric spoke. "I've had time to review the situation. There was no dark magic involved and I'm quite sure this is a clear cut case of self-defense by Neville here, though I'd very much appreciate if Ma'am Longbottom stayed back." He gave the severe looking woman a dark look. "She and I have things to discuss."

"How could you have had time to review anything!?" Mr. Malfoy hissed. "You just looked at him! And who are you anyways that we should listen to you?"

Eric ignored the man and projected an illusion of the event for the entire room to watch. Most of the room watched dumfounded as the light streamed out of Eric's hands to play the memory like a video, complete with Draco's snide speech about Hufflepuff's being good target dummies.

"See? See where the little cretin throws my son down the hallway? His eyes flash red and he uses no wand! A clear case of dark magic!"

"Actually," Eric spoke up, his voice cutting through the sudden din of multiple arguing voices, "his eyes flash purple not red, and that is a simple application of the levitation charm. Performed wandlessly, I'll admit, but that's what I teach."

"Teach!? You're a first year! Dumbledore, how could you allow an eleven year old to be one of your professors? I'll lodge a complaint with the rest of the board! I'll see you sacked!" snarled the platinum blond man.

"Actually Eric is not one of my professors." Dumbledore interjected calmly. "His classes are held during meetings of a club the boy put together, and completely unconnected with the school proper. Eric's teacher status is much like that of a chess master to a new or junior player, nothing formal or official," the wizened man finished.

"And, what of his faculty advisors?" Lucius challenged, scrambling for something to attack.

"A pair of prefects," Dumbledore answered, plucking a lemon drop from a dish on his desk. "Both of whom are students of his incidentally…"

"Headmaster, if I may…" sneered Snape "perhaps, in light of these events, we have been giving the boy too much freedom to pursue this. A pair of prefects, under the tuition of the boy at that, might not be enough oversight. It would certainly go towards allaying Mr. Malfoy's concerns if a proper Professor were to instruct and oversee this club." Severus finished silkily.

"Are you volunteering your time then, professor?" Eric asked innocently, earning himself a nasty look from Snape.

"I want my son trained." Everybody turned to look at Mr. Malfoy in shock, Draco included.

"And what makes you think I would train him?" Eric asked, quietly, eyes narrowed at the blonds.

Lucius Malfoy smiled nastily. "I head the board of Governors." he said smirking. "Professor or club leader I can have you shut down. Unless you'd prefer expulsion?" he asked trying to appear intimidating. "Your wand snapped, living as a pariah among the muggles, forbidden to practice magic."

Eric summoned a fireball in each hand, lightning running up and down both arms. "And what makes you think that'd be the healthier option? Your son isn't already in my class because he refused to be taught by, and I quote, 'an uppity mudblood and his bloodtraitor lackeys.'" Mr. Malfoy gave his son a dirty look and tightened his grip on his wand, a curse for the red haired brat ready on his lips when Professor Dumbledore stepped in.

"That will be quite enough, Eric," the headmaster said sharply, a dangerous edge to his voice that Eric respected. "As Headmaster this has gone quite far enough! This is a simple disciplinary action that should have been handled by the heads of house. Mr. Malfoy, 20 points from Slytherin for attacking another student. Mr. Longbottom, 10 points from Hufflepuff for overreacting to the situation, you should have used what Mr. Stark taught you to dispel and disarm before alerting a teacher. Mr. Stark, 30 points from Ravenclaw for neither practicing nor teaching your disciples proper restraint. Filius, as a former dueling expert and head of Mr. Stark's house would you be willing to oversee his Saturday classes. You've expressed an interest in the magic before, this would be an opportunity to dissect it firsthand." Professor Flitwick looked pensive for a moment before nodding his assent.

"Young Mr. Malfoy, after a proper apology to both Mr.'s Stark and Longbottom you will begin attending the sorcery club meetings and all three of you will receive detentions." There was a cry of protest from Draco and Dumbledore glared at him. "A week's worth of them with someone other than your head of house." When Draco looked as if he was about to protest Albus asked if he would like to try for a month's worth and dismissed the family. Mr. Malfoy promised his son would be ready with his apologies before the next club meeting and left.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Out in the hall Lucius was fuming. He swept down the spiraling marble stair and dismissed his solicitors. They were the expensive kind, human rather than goblins and mostly former Ravenclaw's and Slytherin. It was a pity he hadn't gotten to properly sic them on that bitch Longbottom, but that was a trivial matter compared to what he was about to deal with; his son had been in the presence of power and turned it down. He wasn't particularly bothered by the fact that Draco had insulted and alienated the mudblood, no, it was that the boy had offered very real power of the type he'd only seen his master use on the occasion he wanted to really scare people into submission, by someone who used it casually. Fire and lightning weren't often used in wizarding duels due to the power versus effect ratio, being so much worse than common offensive spells, and wandless magic, while not unheard of, was infinitely more costly for any appreciable effect.

When he was sure no one else was around he grabbed his son by the scruff of the neck and literally threw the boy into an unused classroom. It seemed that it was high time he explained the facts of life to the boy.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Meanwhile up in Dumbledore's office another confrontation was ongoing. Augusta Longbottom was currently looking down her nose and glowering at Eric. The _boy_ however had created a barrier around the door and fireplace preventing her from leaving.

"You will leave it be, Master Stark." The old buzzard snapped primly, her knuckles whitening as she gripped her handbag. "That is a family matter and will be dealt with from within the family."

"So, what," Eric challenged "so you can try to kill him again?" he said loudly, causing the headmaster to pause in his intentions to distract the boy.

"Kill him? Augusta, what's this about?" the ancient former transfiguration teacher demanded, eyes ablaze.

"Neville's family," Eric snarled the words before the elder Longbottom could explain herself "has taken the last six years to repeatedly demean and physically attack him in a manner that would have any sane court screaming in outrage."

"We did no such thing, boy! We're a noble family and well within our rights to test our children for magical ability!" the Longbottom matriarch sniffed.

"You allowed your cousin to repeatedly chase after him, throwing spells, brandishing sharp objects, tossing him from the roof of the house and trying to drown Neville!" Eric shouted. "It's a wonder he doesn't have PTSD!"

"Algee has always been a bit off, but we had him well in hand, Neville was never in any real danger! It's not as if he was a squib." The woman replied crisply.

"And if he was, then what?" the redheaded sorcerer snapped. "He'd be dead and swept under the rug? Better pushing up daisies than besmirching the name of Longbottom?"

"Why I never!" the grey haired woman gasped, her vulture hat quivering.

"That's right, you didn't." Eric pressed darkly. "As much as you expressed you displeasure with Algee you never tried to stop him. You never protected or cared for Neville like you should. I wouldn't expect a grandmother to still be motherly, but constantly demeaning him and telling him how he'd never measure up to his father is no way to go about it."

Dumbledore raised a brow but otherwise said nothing. He was facing a bit of a conundrum. Did he curb Eric's excesses and try to discipline him, or did he see how deep the rabbit hole ran? The boy was obviously trying to help Neville but whether it would help or hinder the blond though was the question. Eric wasn't doing well at convincing his old classmate of anything and he found it odd that the careful genius would do this so recklessly in front of him. That wasn't like the boy at all. What was his game?

"My son's wand is more than enough for him!" Mrs. Longbottom snarled, bringing Dumbledore back to the conversation.

"And It's unsuited to him. Even his teachers agree that the bonding is uneven and irregular. Ten galleons is a pittance to someone of your caliber, hell it's a pittance to me! Is your pride in your son really worth stunting your grandson's casting?"

"How dare you!" she hissed, drawing her wand finally. "You interfere where you are not welcome, in matters you do not understand! There was nothing wrong with my son, nothing wrong with his wand, and certainly nothing wrong with my family! Save Neville… most magical children show their power by three, six at the latest! His didn't show up until he was ten!"

"Then how is he one of the strongest students outside of my inner circle?" The elderly witch looked like she had been slapped, her mouth gaping lake a fish. "Wandless magic takes ten times the amount of power to learn a spell before the student learns enough control for mage sight. Neville's still working on that lesson, but he's still made it that far, something only four outside my inner circle have managed. Yet still, he keeps up. All he needed was to be told he was worth something by someone he had no reason to believe would lie to him." _Dumbledore, back me up here._

_So that's your game is it?_ It hadn't taken Dumbledore much longer than his own question to figure out what Eric's cross-purpose for holding this scene in his office was. Neville was suffering and, from the reports he'd gotten over the year on the red haired wrecking-ball, Eric was going out of his way to correct that. From what he had read and heard the boys first confrontation with the Longbottom heir had alerted him to the problem and he had not reacted well. Not at all, if reports were true, going so far as to reduce the chubby blond to tears and night-terrors without so much as a word. Ever since, Eric had driven himself to help the boy, pushing him weekly to improve his casting, schoolwork and confidence. This confrontation was to be the crown jewel of Eric's battle of self and one the boy was smart enough to know he wouldn't win, at least not personally, which was why he'd staged the attack within the office of someone who could. He, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, holder of a dozen prestigious titles commanded respect and authority by reputation even with the majority of his detractors. Eric was airing the Longbottom clan's dirty laundry in front of him with the hopes of cementing the changes he'd been making to the boy by applying real pressure to a place where he and his words, no matter how true and sharp, could not hope to penetrate- the Lord of Longbottom Manor.

"Augusta," Dumbledore said calmly "as rude as the boy is, he has a point." Albus fought the urge to chuckle as his former student's back straightened and a pout tried to hide itself at his support of the boy. His next words would have an enormous impact on the quiet boy in the corner so he chose them carefully. "Neville's teachers have noticed a marked increase in the boys ability in class as his confidence has improved and most believe they can trace it back to young Mr. Stark's influence. Neville may not be Frank, but surely you can give him a chance?"

_Bravo, subtly supporting us both while simultaneously guilting her into doing things my way. It seems I might owe you a personal favor now, Headmaster Dumbledore, sir._

Albus' quiet smile turned up a notch and Augusta crumbled. It wasn't a visible thing mind you, she was a proper English woman after all, but from the look in her eyes Dumbledore could tell she was going to bend. "I can have one of the prefects escort Mr. Longbottom to Diagon Alley this Saturday to pick up his second wand," the headmaster continued, eyes twinkling. "There's no reason he cannot use Frank's wand as well," he said offering the woman a compromise "and the license for having two wands shouldn't be hard to come by with my recommendation," he continued, handing the 70 year old woman a signed note. "Unless you'd like to pick him up yourself?"

Augusta nodded slowly, took the note and left through the flue.

"Eric…" The two manipulators turned toward the weak voice at the back of the room where Neville was sitting, "thank you." With a bow to the Headmaster, he too left.

Heaving a great sigh Eric collapsed onto a large fluffy arm chair near his desk. "Well, that was fun…not." Eric said, sounding drained. "Thanks for backing me up there Headmaster. I knew this confrontation was coming, but hadn't expected it until this summer. I'm not entirely sure what I would have done then. I had a vague idea of somehow proving Nev's worth to his family, putting him through his paces like some show pony, but nothing concrete." He huffed an exhausted laugh before continuing. "As if that would have even worked. I'd have probably ended up killing Algee or something and ruining the whole plot."

"Indeed," the white haired man said simply, heading back to his wing backed chair. "And a fine performance it was as well, though I'm still going to have to punish you for it. I am curious though, did you set up for Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Malfoy's confrontation, or was that their own doing?"

"A not so happy coincidence, sir. I expected the little ponce to run afoul of one or more of my students and get walloped for it, his type is predictable after all, but this situation? No, I'd expected it to go through the heads of house at worst. Like me and Ronald Weasley the boy is a bully well used to getting his own way, but where I mess with people's heads, Draco is like Ron, full of vitriol but lacking the brains or power to give it bite."

"Yes, I did notice that about you." Dumbledore said through interlaced fingers. "Very Slytherin by the way."

"Not really, sir. Being nasty isn't a house trait, it can show up as easily in a Puff or Lion as a Snake or Claw. The thing I don't get is where Slytherin fell. Their credo is to build oneself up using all around you, using all paths to fulfill your goals, but outside of my friend Blaise that seems to be an alien concept among the elite of Slytherin house. They prefer to tear others down so that they might lie atop the ashes. It's hardly a power base if the people who support you aren't able to be of best use. In Belfast having an army of minions where only your inner circle amounted to anything was considered a sign of weakness, whereas a hierarchy of anything else was the measure of your strength."

"I believe that and the deteriorating relations between Slytherin and the other three houses are the influence of the recent Dark Lord, Voldemort. Inter-house relationships have always been a little rocky, what with the Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry, but up until the muggle world wars it had always been a point of friendly competition. I must admit though, I'm surprised you're aware enough to admit to being a bully."

"Ha, that's hardly special, professor. Lots of people are bully's it's just a question of whether or not they've any skill at it. Hell, look at Fred and George, two of my closest friends and some of the best people you'll ever meet; but they have the entire school running scared, upper forms included. Very few people want to piss them off for fear of their pranks. It's bullying plain and simple, in the civilian world they even have a special word for what sets Fred and George apart from normal bullies, they call it hazing."

"Yes, I've heard of that. It's not quite accurate though, the twins are rarely malicious." Dumbledore countered.

"And that's why people like them. They fear becoming the Weasley's next victims, but the two of them play it off well enough that everyone thinks it's all in good fun so long as they aren't actively the target. Percy tries to match them, but because of his focus and demeanor all he really does is come off as pompous and officious, which on a teenager just means he's laughed at as a teacher's pet. The prefect thing has helped his reputation a bit, but it's made his efforts even worse. Shit, even timid little Hermione tries to boss people around and threaten them to be good little students."

"It would seem that looking in the mirror has given you quite the interesting outlook on life." The old man said smiling.

"Heh, you try having the best and worst dreams of what you could be shoved in your face like that. It opens a person's eyes." Eric rocked forward, putting his hands on his knees. "If you don't mind my asking professor, what do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"Something similar, and yet altogether different. I'm sure you'll understand that that's a very personal question. Now! Since you're still here, let's discuss your detentions. I think…"

_**1234567890987654321**_

The next meeting of the sorcery club was interesting to say the least. The meeting was well underway when Blaise led Draco into the Room of Requirement. It started slow as one person saw the platinum blond terror, and then spread like a wave as people rushed off to whisper to their friends, the speculations on why their leader had allowed _that_ boy to befoul the room with his presence. Eric was at the back of the room giving a lecture on energy and how emotional states and personalities affected elemental manipulation when Hannah Abbot ran up and whispered in his ear.

"Follow me everyone, I've prepared a treat for this lesson."

Eric strode forward and let his magic announce his presence so the crowd parted like the Red Sea, revealing a decidedly nervous looking Draco and a disgruntled Blaise maintaining a grip on his shoulder.

"Everyone, everyone, settle down. I know you're all wondering why Mr. Malfoy has so magnanimously graced us with his presence." He caught Harry's eye, and the disgust therein, and sent _just wait, mate, this is going to be good, I promise. _"My dear friend Draco…" Eric paused as there was a round of sniggers at that before waving his arms for silence. "As I was saying, my dear friend Draco Malfoy saw fit to inform me earlier this week that he intended to buy his way into our little gathering." Everyone openly laughed at this, it was common knowledge that if you needed anything from a Malfoy they were going to take you for all you were worth and commonly tried to buy things that were not for sale. Often succeeding, due to their political connections, also purchased more often than not. "Though, of course, everyone here knows my services are free…" _relatively speaking_ "so long as you are willing to take instruction."

Eric let that sink in for a moment before continuing, now looking directly at the red, nearly steaming face of the boy he was humiliating. "Now I'm sure everyone is interested in what Draco intends to pay me with," he said, smirking, as everyone seemed to draw in a breath, anticipating the big reveal. A few of the older students rolled their eyes, but he shrugged it off, he was hamming it up quite a bit after all. "After a little tussle between him and our own Neville Longbottom," everyone looked at the boy who promptly projected the memory of his victory to the room causing a round of applause and laughter to ripple across the room. "Draco's father, Lucius," there was a collective hiss at the name, he'd have to look that up later, but he had a good idea why, "told me that as the head of the board of governors we would train his son or he would shut us down" there was a buzz of angry murmurs around the room at that pronouncement, forcing Eric to wait for silence before continuing. "And in exchange for our services Draco would tender his formal apologies to the club for his… crass behavior. SO! Anyone who has ever been mistreated or maligned by the Malfoy family, I present you their Heir, Draco, that you might formally accept his heartfelt apologies."

He walked over to the purple skinned blond and hugged him roughly with one arm around the shoulder. "Your instruction will begin when they're satisfied. Have fun." Then, with a clap on the back, Eric strode off through the crowd which closed in like a murder of crows over a fresh corpse.

_**1234567890987654321**_

AN: when asked JKR said that Great Britain's wizarding population was 3000 people, Hogwarts had 600 students and teachers and had 500 ministry workers wasting half a year on building a Quidditch stadium while her class sizes are easily 40 kids and a dozen teachers, suggesting a maximum school size of 300. None of her math really adds up well even with the medieval government models. I think she did this as a way to explain why 1 or 2 dozen people could hold an entire population hostage. 3000 people isn't even a small town; to be capable of running a government you can't have more than 1/3 of workers gone regularly for an entire year so that's 1500 people in the ministry, 600 people in Hogwarts, and 900 to run the entire rest of the British wizarding world. 20 thousand isn't enough to have the aristocracy suggested by the books, let-alone 3000. 20 thousand is your average college population for Odin's sake.

Also, for those who like Malfoy, I don't intend to be mean to him long. Thing is, until now Eric hasn't had much chance to influence Malfoy any, occasionally seeing each other in class and Malfoy's common snide comments was about the limit of their interaction. As such, up until this point Draco is still the useless little ponce from the books and does a lot of the same stuff. From here on out though, butterflies will start swirling around his head, some more voracious than others and changes can honestly begin. As 've mentioned before, I don't like changing thing in a 'why the fuck not?' manner like most FF authors, the dominos have to line up to start the cascade. If one doesn't reach then…

One final note, several of my beta's have asked me to explain they psyche behind Eric's experience with the mirror. First things first, no matter how mature he is Eric's is still an 11 year old boy with everything that entails. Hyper, overactive imagination, prone to exaggerations and irrational fears… you get the idea. That being said, he's spent the last 6 years building incredible magical abilities, some of which sort of bite him in the ass on an emotional level. He often wonders if he has so much power, why couldn't he save Maria? Would she blame him for not using his powers to do so? Would she like it that he's going to school that taught the people who killed her? He wants revenge on the people who killed her, but would she forgive him for going out and getting it? The mirror, being what it is, can see this. All his hopes, all his worries, and it shows him a twisted, almost Brothers Grim fairy tale version of that.

Hope you enjoyed this latest production of 'Back in Black' by yours truly; to show your appreciation, kindly post a review. All forms are accepted, but flames that aren't constructive will be summarily ignored.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Eric waited until he was out of Draco's hearing before he started laughing. It went on for several minutes as his friends gathered around him giving him a variety of strange looks that just made him laugh harder.

"Eric," Hermione admonished as he began to wind down "why did you do that? It was unnecessary and cruel."

"I don't know, Hermione," Blaise said smoothly as he stared hard at Eric "I would think you'd enjoy that, given all the trouble he's given you over the year. He is, after all, our version of Ronald."

"That doesn't mean you need to sink to his level though!" the mousey haired genius huffed, crossing her arms.

"Perhaps not," Eric allowed, shrugging, "but it was useful."

"How?" There was a dark edge to Harry's voice as he asked the question and everyone turned to him. Eric knew Harry had had troubles with the blond before but the true depth of their animosity had eluded conscious understanding before now. Eric's mind flashed through everything his friend had told him about his reactions with the boy and chose his words carefully. He didn't think Harry would leave him over this, but it would certainly make things unpleasant.

"Malfoy thought that by using their family power they could extend their influence into our corner of the yard and add our power to their own; but by coming here they've given us the advantage." Using the room Eric summoned the eight of them a circle of comfortable chairs and sat down. "Part of the agreement Dumbledore negotiated was that Draco would be polite and follow the rules in exchange for his training. Formal apologies, that's big. According to Blaise in magical families formal apologies are equivalent to oaths on one's magic. If you say it you have to mean it, if you don't in the first place your magic makes up the difference, one way or the other." He looked at the two Gryffindor's significantly as he said that. "Beyond even that joining our club places us in a position of authority over him, both as teachers and in social standing. For me, this means he has to obey me in order to advance. For Blaise it means his primary rival has just willingly declared his status as a part of his power base rather than counter to it. For the Weasley's" he said turning his gaze on the twins "it would mean finally having some measure of power over that family. As his professors you'd have both a small measure of authority over him and the chance to shape him through his lessons, either to hinder him, build him up or otherwise turn him towards something you find slightly less repugnant. If you've been watching the classes lately the most commonly used magic here has dealt with the mind. Our students have even begun to project more often than they speak, even going so far as to share memories as a way of making friends and teaching lessons." He turned to Harry and Hermione, a frown on his face. "There's not a lot of advantage for you two, but the formal apology you could get out of it would force him to stop bothering you at minimum."

Harry still looked unhappy, but nodded, mollified. Hermione however was still troubled. It was sort of nice in a way, when she got all upset about something like this, because it showed that beneath her mask of a bossy, overconfident know it all she was still a sweet girl. Eric shook himself.

"And what about us?" Padma piped up, gesturing at herself and Su. "Are we chopped liver or something?"

"It's almost as if you don't care." Su added. She was trying to pout but the grin at the corners of her mouth and the light of mischief in her eyes ruined the effect.

"I've acquired another minion for the two of you to boss around?" Eric asked, hopeful.

The rest of the group started laughing as the two girls began hexing him mercilessly.

_**1234567890987654321**_

The next several weeks passed slowly for Eric, training Malfoy was like pulling teeth. First he refused to allow Eric into his mind, then he questioned every exercise he was given for the alternate path because it was made by 'primitive muggles'. Eric tried to foist him off on the loving care of his Slytherin students but he annoyed them so much they politely and obliquely threatened to leave the group saying that they'd learned enough to be getting on with and the rest of the group just plain refused.

Well, that wasn't entirely true.

The new sixth year Andrea Solus from Slytherin offered to teach Draco, but wasn't far enough along for it to make the exercise anything useful. The whole situation was frustrating on a level that Eric found himself having a hard time describing. He was sure that if he actually cared about the little ponce's education he'd be bulling his hair out and frothing at the mouth by now; as it was though it was simply putting him in a bad mood. So it was in early spring that he and Hermione were in the Hogwarts main library discussing whether the club would be able to weather the politics of Draco not learning anything when Harry blew into the room, flight cloak billowing and a wild look in his eye.

Eric grimaced as an image came across the link from Hermione connecting the boy with Zephyrus, the Greek wind god. Dashing, gentle, powerful, exciting. Ugh. Eric shivered in disgust and broke the link quickly, pulling out of the young girls mind with all due haste. He saw the girl forcing control over a blush out of the corner of his vision as he turned himself to face the other Gryffindor.

_Guys, we've got a problem._ Harry's voice crashed into his mind without an ounce of finesse in his urgency.

_Oh no, what is it? _Hermione returned the stream of doomsday scenarios streaming through the newly established link far worse than her normal babbling.

Harry went stiff for a moment and Eric applied a subtle pressure to the girl's lips, his magic imitating a finger like the pair of boys had taken to doing whenever they needed the bushy genius to calm down. Successful Eric turned his attention back to their landing friend. _You said it was urgent?_

_Urgent, yes_ Harry returned shaking his head and giving Hermione an odd look which caused her to blush again, this time in embarrassment. _I was down at Hargrids just now. _He replied a sense of deep worry bleeding through the link. _He was shut in and his door was scorching hot despite being in a shadow so I got worried and forced my way in. He had a dragon egg in his fireplace and the logs were built up around it like a log cabin…_

_To give it the best heat for the material _Eric finished.

Harry nodded. _He got it from a hooded stranger in a pub last night _harry explained. _The only thing he knows about dragons is stories at the moment so he was preparing a nest for the egg. Said he was about to come up here for books on raising dragons when I barged in. I'm worried about him; he's never been that gruff with me, not even when we accused Hogwarts teachers of plotting to steal Dumbledore's rock._

_Umm, _Hermione cut in _I might have a reason for that._ She wilted as the two of them turned towards her, their mental presences harsh and questioning. _Raising dragons has been banned in England for several centuries by the International Confederation of Wizards. You have to go through and extensive screening process, mountains of paperwork and have both facilities well out of detection of Muggles and large amounts of money to get any sort of waiver for it. _

_So what he's doing is highly illegal and could get him thrown in prison. _Eric frowned and activated the safety feature on his cloak, summoning it around him, simultaneously morphing his Chameleon Robes from school attire into a simple blouse and slacks. Seeing his transformation Hermione's eyes widened and she too summoned her flight robes. The pair of them quickly levitated their work into a pair of messenger bags and returned the books to their proper shelves before nodding to Harry. As one the three of them launched themselves into the air and out of the library, leaving a scowling Ma'am Pince in their wake.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Hagrid hurriedly shuffled to the door as someone on the other side began pounding on it. Opening the door a crack he saw Harry had returned with his friends Hermione and Eric. With a great sigh he let the three of them in. "**Tea?**" he asked before going back to the fire and stuffing some more brush in with the logs.

"Here." Eric said briskly, thrusting a book into his hands. "If you're going to raise an illegal dragon you may as well know how to go about it."

"**How to train your dragon?**" he asked giving Eric a teary look "**aww, ye shouna 'ave, thanks!**" Hagrid rumbled grabbing the boy from his place staring into the fire and giving him a bone-crushing hug.

"Hagrid?" Hermione spoke up hesitantly.

"**Eh?**"

"You should probably let Eric go now, he's turning blue."

"**Oh… OH! Sorreh bou tha…**" He dropped the small boy and chuckled apologetically as the boy glared at him and wheezed. The next half hour was spent going over Eric's book with Harry and Hermione while Eric played with the egg. Hagrid had been worried when the boy had first reached right into the flames and pulled the mottled black and green orb out of the hearth, but when the boys hands continued to blaze and none of the children started screaming he let it go. Strange boy that one, he'd have to ask about his actions later.

"Look here" Harry said, pointing at a picture on one of the pages "it's a Norwegian Ridgeback."

"Ooh!" Hermione cooed in agreement. "Norwegian Ridgebacks are among the smallest species of dragons measuring 35 feet from snout to tail with a wingspan of 70 to 80 feet. While one of the calmer and friendlier species of dragons Ridgebacks are well known for being energetic creatures and difficult for their parents or owners to control. Armed with a quickly developed fire spout, serrated claws and poisonous fangs the ridgeback is not a drake suggested for amateur dragon tamers as it often gives pause to experienced professionals. As a consequence of its small size this dragon is incredibly fast and agile earning it the nickname 'fire worm'." Hermione read aloud, the worried expression in her face and tone growing as she continued.

"**Beau'iful, isn it?**" Hagrid breathed, expression joyful.

"Hagrid, you live in a wooden house." Harry deadpanned. "As cool as having a dragon is, it's not beautiful, it's you being homeless in a few months. Look here, it says the ridgebacks begin to breath fire at one month and if properly fed can grow at a rate of three inches a day. You barely fit in your house and you're only 12 feet tall, this thing is going to be three times that and breathing fire. Hermione's right, you can't keep it here."

Hagrid frowned, their arguments scratching at his happy mood. "**Bu I canah abandon 'im, e's jus a baby.**" He protested.

"And right now _she's_ just an egg." Cut in Eric, who was playing with a fireball, the black ball at the center. "I'm sure you think this is just another cute little pet like that Cerberus you have guarding the stone, but face facts Hagrid, it's not a house pet and you can't keep it here."

"**So whar shoud I keep it then?**" He rumbled, his black beard shifting as he frowned.

"If you're not going to smart about this and get rid of it?" the boy asked, sighing as Hagrid frown deepened. "I'd hold off on cooking the little girl until summer when you can just disappear for a few months and failing that prepare a nest in the forest for it. You could try near that nest of spiders I ran across last month, there's too damn many of them and it'd be a good source of chow for the little drake." Hagrid watched as the redheaded boy transferred his precious egg to one hand and doused the other before flipping a few pages in the book and pointing to the passage labeled in bold Care and feeding. "also, as it's a shore based dragon from Norway it's programed for fjords meaning you'll need a cliff and a lot of fish nearby if you don't want it to start coming around the black lake here and trying to munch on the kids, which will REALLY get you in trouble with Dumbledore and the ministry."

Hermione turned to look at the boy as Hargrid thought about what he'd just been told.

"Eric, how is it you know all of this, and why did you have the book in the first place?"

At this Hagrid looked up as well. He might not be the quickest wand in the draw, but he knew when things were out of sorts. "I bought it during my stay in Diagon Alley and started reading it when Blaise mentioned that there had been dragon animagi among histories legendary wizards. I picked up the book in the first place because my wand core is made from the heart of an Icelandic blue, another small fast dragon. What's special about the blue though is that where most dragons are on record as having the intelligence of a sheep dog or similar, the Icelandic blue is usually compared to that of a preteen human. Of course that's nothing on the East Asian Wind Worm varieties or the Central American Quetzalcoatl, the older ones are supposed to be able to speak multiple languages and perform elemental magic, abilities which have historically convinced the local civilian populations that they were gods."

Hargrid joined Harry and Hermione in staring at the boy for several long seconds. "What?"

"You've got problems, mate" Harry replied shaking his head.

"I think it's cute" Hermione countered, her arms crossed, a smirk on her lips "there's nothing wrong with wanting to learn and he always gets so animated when he goes off on one of his little tangents."

Eric pouted. "Hey, it's not as if I was trying to impress my magic upon the egg to try and make it a familiar…"

That got their attention. "What?" Harry asked, Hagrid felt confused as well, but Hermione had gotten really agitated at this latest pronouncement.

"But familiars are supposed to just be a Muggle superstition," she protested "I've read hundreds of books and never once have I seen any mention of witches or wizards having genuine familiars. I'd gotten really excited when they mentioned allowing cat rat or owl for first years but the pet store owner had no clue what I was talking about!"

Eric shrugged and removed that infernal pouch from around his neck. Reaching into it he pulled out another book and handed it to her. Friend or Foe: a compendium of familiars and their magic.

Harry laughed as Hermione imitated a goldfish. "Are you a seer?" she asked after a while.

Eric laughed. "Not in the least, I had no idea we were going to end up talking about familiars. I just keep this one on me because it came from a rare books shop in Nocturn Alley. Same as the book I just let Hargid borrow. Speaking of which, it's another one I intend for the great lump here to read." He continued, glaring at Hagrid. "Familiar bonding happens when an animal compatible with the prospective wizard's personality absorbs their magic over a period of several years. If the match is very close it can happen in as few as 8 months according to the book. Powers the creatures and their wizard masters gain vary depending on the animal involved, our post owls for instance use a variation on the familiar magic to gain a human equivalent intelligence and the ability to find people but that's not what's important. Two things stood out when I read the book. First the Familiar bond can be forced regardless of compatibility by saturating the creature in question with a wizards magic and regardless of the method of bonding the master and familiar are able to influence each-other's actions and know where their bonded partners are at any time. Doing so would be a great help if you want to keep that dragon because letting it become public knowledge that it's here is simply dangerous."

"Eric," Harry asked "what powers do a dragon and its familiar get?"

"No one knows, the knowledge wasn't in a rare book store for no reason and the author states that the only people stupid enough to try to bond with a wild dragon all died." Eric said smiling cheerily.

Everybody looked at him slack-jawed for several moments until the boy couldn't take it anymore and fell out of his chair laughing.

"Eric!" Harry shouted.

"How could you!" added Hermione.

"**What?**" Hagrid spluttered.

"S-sorry," Eric said, struggling not to laugh "Sorry, I'm not trying to kill Hagrid. Every attempt to bond with a dragon recorded by the book the witch of wizard died because they tried to link themselves to a fully grown wild dragon. The more I learn about wizarding culture the more I realize just how barmy wizards are. The sheer number of simple blunders in our history books and the absolutely wacky approaches to magic in our litany of spells just keep stacking up to a picture of a sugar crazed six year old with the power of a god." Eric heaved a big sigh and his laughing smile went flat. "What Hagrids going to be doing is far safer, even if though I suspect the safety aspect of it is going to depress our giant friend. I'm going to teach him our approach to magic and Hagrid is going to bond with his dragon when she's still an egg, or failing that as he's raising her."

"**Thas nice'n all, Eric, bu I'm no allowed ter do magic. Snapped me wand back in third year. Na tha I were any great shakes at magic anyways, practically a squib so ereyone tol me.**"

"You can't be that bad, Hagrid" Harry defended him. "You made that boat move and almost turned my cousin Dudley into a pig! We don't start human transfiguration until mid-sixth year! If you got kicked out in your third and were still able to do that, you can't be bad…"

"**Aww, shucks.**" Hagrid rumbled, blushing.

"Hagrid," Eric asked, catching the half giants attention. "You can still use the magical world, right?"

"**Yes.**"

"And you can make use of magical devices like the flue or a broom?"

"**Yes.**"

"And if you should go to the castle library or Diagon Alley they wouldn't stop from getting a book would they?"

"**Well, no but…**"

"And you can still participate in rituals?" Eric pressed.

"**No one uses rituals anymore, boy, they got wands now don't they?**"

"How about runes?"

"**Yes a'ready! Eric, wha's this abou'?**"

"Well, It seems to me that the only thing your expulsion stops you from doing is using a wand." Eric explained to him, grinning madcap, a peculiar light in his eyes. "And I'm nothing if not good at doing magic without a wand."

_**1234567890987654321**_

April was an interesting month for Eric. Hagrid, thank Odin, had agreed to postpone the hatching of his dragon until school let out in early June and was more than happy to join sorcery classes with everyone else. Eric knew from his time within the larger man's mind that was mostly because he was enamored with the concept of having his various pets as familiars, but he was still a good student nonetheless. It was actually that particular fact that brought him to the situation he was in right now.

Draco Malfoy, recalcitrant ponce, former and failed terror of the Slytherin first years and all-around average student had noticed he was being shown up by a halfbreed who'd been expelled from Hogwarts before even his own father had attended.

To anyone else it would have been worth noting that the large man had never really given up his attempts to learn and perform magic on the sly and had often found himself doing so accidentally, but not Draco. The Malfoy heir only saw the insult and mortification this would be if he returned to his father claiming that Eric's bad attitude and poor teaching had failed to push a pureblood scion anywhere while a creature that wasn't even human could be presented as having surpassed him. The thing was, as much as he disliked 'the uppity mudblood' he was far more afraid of his father's disappointment.

Draco approached him the first week of may with a look like he was sucking on a lemon and told Eric. "I am ready to learn… master." The last word was something he struggled with, giving the impression that he'd rather drown himself than say it.

Eric looked at him curiously, turning away from the duels he'd been supervising. Eric gave him a long piercing look before responding. "And I am ready to teach" he said "but it seems that in this case to teach I must first learn." He turned to Hermione and Su who were waiting in the wings and offering suggestions and comments on the duelers' forms and actions. Eric put them in charge of continuing the lesson and walked off, Draco following alongside.

Shortly they found themselves in a newly opened alcove with two squishy armchairs, a table and another book case. "So, tell me, what's the big deal with this blood purity thing. Why am I constantly having to prove myself your better?"

"You really should talk to my father about this," the blond said heavily "he's our leader now that the dark lords gone."

"Yes, well by the time I get to your father he'll be busy beating you and trying to shut me down to properly explain, so why don't you lay it out for me…" Eric countered dryly.

"Right." The boys said, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees and chin in his hands. "Magical blood as we know it today started back in ancient times with the continent of Atlantis. Back then wizards commanded the elements, formed their bodies to their will and were capable of raising cities or shattering continents. The gods walked among us as parents to favored children and magical people and creatures were everywhere. Then came the cataclysm. Nobody really knows what happened or why but as our city fell and the continent swept away beneath us the gods took the blood of magic and spread it across the world. Very few records remain from that time, but that was nearly twelve thousand years ago and ever since then our powers have been growing weaker."

"The fall from grace, a popular tale in many mythologies." Eric commented quietly, offering Draco a cup of tea from a house elf standing by his chair.

Draco nodded accepting the cup and ordering a sandwich. "Except in our case it's more than just mythology." The boy sighed and rubbed his temples. "After the fall of Atlantis magic integrated itself into Muggle society and culture. Where they were primitives scratching a meager living in the dirt we raised them up to be our partners and, often servants. Blood mixed, time passed and we guided our lesser cousins to forming great empires, accepting our gods and generally supporting them. Ancient Egypt was one of the best examples of this before the dark lord Nelsur'aket turned most of the empire into a desert."

"The Sahara?" Eric asked, brows raised.

"Exactly." Malfoy answered taking a sip of tea. "The problem was that with each successive generation the greats among our people failed more and more to reach the heights of their fathers. Our powers were fading and we didn't understand why. Then a group of sages from across the world began to notice a trend. Families who interbred commonly with our muggle cousins produced weaker wizards than those who kept it within the community. That was the start of blood purity, nearly four thousand years ago.

You see, the thing you have to understand is that there really is no such thing as a muggleborn. If you have magic then somewhere in your family history you have a pure blood magical. Most muggleborns are children or grandchildren of squibs. Maybe it was your mother, maybe it was the father you said abandoned you, perhaps it was one of your grandparents. As common as rape and philandering are plenty enough supposed muggleborn's are actually half-bloods whose parents are either unaware or memory charmed. Muggleborns are looked down upon by our society because you come from what is considered a corruption of our blood, people's bastards and children of those whose magic became so weak they fail to light a wand. That's the schism, the reason for our contempt and the explicative mudblood."

Eric was silent for a long time, occasionally sipping his tea as he processed the information. "If what you say it true then how did magical blood arise in the first place, and why aren't you and your father gods among men? Professor Dumbledore, supposedly the greatest wizard of our time is one of your mere half-bloods."

"There are a number of theories about that." Draco said, haltingly. "One is that the reason the wizards of Atlantis were treated as favored children of the gods is because they were. The half-blood children of the Greek pantheon gave us some of Europe's most powerful remaining bloodlines. Another theory is that the first wizards were descendants of Muggles who mated with magical creatures and as those bloodlines melded together they grew stronger until they were able to do the acts spoken of in legends. It's known certain species of magical sentients' can bolster the dying blood of a family, Veela in particular are prized for this, giants and trolls on the other hand are not..."

"Trolls?" Eric asked, making a face.

"Crabee, Goyle and Millicent Bulstrode. I know, it's wrong right? It was half a dozen generations ago give or take. Goblins are another unpopular choice, but no one really gives Flitwick or his line much flack about it, the big argument there is the races personality rather than their magic. You should see the leprechaun's though, if you think Fred and George Weasley are pranksters you haven't seen anything till you meet their half-bloods."

"As fascinating as that it, and it really does explain a lot, but what does that have to do with why you're about to be the apprentice and I the master?" The redhead asked raising brow questioning.

Malfoy gave him a disgusted look and muttered something. At another pointed look Malfoy said "a number of mudbloods have suggested over the years that it's a result of inbreeding, alright?"

Eric shrugged. "It does seem reasonable." At Malfoy's glare he rolled his grey eyes and continued "if magical your families marrying their second and third cousins isn't getting you the results you want your best recourse is to outsource. Try purebloods from other countries at minimum. Or you could try magical creatures there was a beautiful dokkalfar woman at Gringotts when I stayed in the alley."

"I may look into that in a few years" the blond said with a grimace "now, to my lesson?"

"Of course, would like to see my latest shock and awe reel, or go straight to the basics?"

Draco laughed.

_**1234567890987654321**_

As exams approached Ravenclaw tower became a hive of activity. Education was something all claws took very seriously, it was in their natures as nerds, geeks and genius's to push to be the best as much as it was for a professional athlete and in an environment where study and not only encouraged but held as the norm things took on an entirely new light. Where in Hufflepuff knowledge was a result and expression of hard work or Slytherin it was a source of power to be sought independently and hoarded for ones rise to power, a claw reveled in its pursuit. Study groups formed like sports clubs and trivial pursuit became positively cutthroat. Books were everywhere, friends talked excitedly and bets were placed with any and everything on the ability to answer difficult questions from notes, course-books and independent study.

One of the games was about guessing what spell was being cast and seeing who could complete the most obscure enchantments. Eric was currently facing off with a group of sixth and fourth years for a book on dueling Flitwick had offered up from his private library. It had been written by a Japanese wizard named Saotome Keiji during the Second World War and apparently contained a number of highly impressive pyrotechnic spells. The diminutive professor had translated the text personally and Eric REALLY wanted that book. Unfortunately he was in third place and seven points from the lead.

The seventh year who was offering the book sent off a silver spell with orange sparkles that railed in its wake and distorted the air around the target. "Dorinta răsucite" said a sixth year named Albert Bellby. "It's a Romanian curse used to corrupt a persons emotions from something simple or innocent into something totally bazar. It's a very grey spell because the effect depends on the imagination and intent of the caster. It can be as easily be slightly embarrassing as it could be horrible and sick." Another streamer of silk flew to hover over the boys head and Eric scowled. He was preparing for the next spell when there came a scratching at the edges of his mind.

_Eric! _Came Harry's voice as soon as he opened his mind a little to investigate. _Eric I need your help! Where are you?_

_I can hear you Harry, what's the problem?_ Eric replied

_I'm down at Hagrid's house-_ Harry started franticly, his mental tone deadly serious

_The lesson isn't going badly is it?_ He asked worriedly. It had been an unusual experience entering the half giants mind and they had been slightly worried that something bad might happen during one of the mans lessons.

_What? No! I mean yes! The lesson hasn't started yet! I got to the hut to find Hagrid trying to calm down a unicorn, it's been attacked and Hagrid's really worried. He's rushed off into the forest with it and if there's something scaring the big man I want to help, but I may need some backup! Can you contact the others?_ He asked frantically, images of the forest flying by bleeding through the connection.

_Su, Padma and I can be there immediately, I don't know about anyone else though. Want me to call in the whole gang? We could make a hunt of it, just like the troll on Halloween!_ Eric replied excited.

_See what you can do to gather the others, but you three should be enough for now. Let's just hope whatever it is isn't magic resistant! _Harry sent back. _Hurry!_

Eric wasted no time gathering the two girls and telling them the situation.

Padma and Su looked at each other worriedly. _We're not letting you go alone_ they said in unison.

_There's not much that can hurt a unicorn though _Padma continued worriedly _you'd best get the rest of the gang, or better yet some of the teachers to come help._

Eric considered that as he cast around for the rest of the inner circle, it wasn't a bad suggestion all in all, but most of the teachers were as busy as the OWL and NEWT students near exam time and none of them had cloaks. _If you can find a teacher with a… Flitwick!_ The little man had just scurried past them heading towards the stairs when the three first years called his name in unison. The white haired half goblin squeaked and jumped, whirling around, looking for something as they ran up to him.

"Professor," Eric said, kneeling before the small almost cartoonish figure. "Hagrid's currently in the forbidden forest with Harry, there's a unicorn with a large gash along it's flank. The three of us are going to help out and we thought it'd be a good idea to take a teacher" Eric explained hurriedly as the three of them summoned their cloaks.

The professor gave them a piercing look before nodding. "Lead the way." He squeaked, his voice flat and serious rather than it's normal excited pitch.

"Do you know how to ride bareback?" Eric grinned.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Meanwhile Harry had caught up to Hagrid who was trying to tend to the injured unicorn while it in turn tried to drag the large man towards something father in the forest. Slowing his frantic flight to land on the magical horses back knees first Harry waved Hagrid off and said "Let me handle this!"

Hagrid looked him in the eye and after a short pause nodded, letting go of the struggling equine which began moving even faster in the same direction, Hagrid following in its wake. Using his cloaks ability for omnidirectional flight Harry shifted until his could properly examine the beast without having to worry about getting knocked off as the silly creature rushed through the darkening trees. The wound wasn't deep thankfully but it looked as if five claws had dragged themselves across the unicorns' side. Thick silvery blue blood was oozing from the wounds and staining its pure white fur. The beast had been lucky but if it kept running like this it would still likely bleed out before the blood had a chance to scab over.

Harry jerked up onto the beasts back as the stupid thing leapt and shot between a particularly thin gap between two trees, scraping its flank up even worse and opening the wounds into something dangerous. _Shit._ He thought preparing to go into a trance.

_Harry? What happened?_

_Eric? No a whole lot just yet. Unicorn's trying to lead us somewhere and just tore open its wounds. I'm going to have to be fast if I wanna save it. Before I trance out, what's the situation?_

Eric projected his current field of perception to him and Harry 'saw' Eric, Su and Padma flying toward his in a V formation, Professor Flitwick riding on Eric's back like a little kid and looking as if he was having the time of his life. _I couldn't reach anyone else with the given timetable but I've got one of Michael informing everyone. Be safe, we'll join you soon._

Harry nodded and cut the connection. Snuggling up against the unicorns neck Harry cast a sticking charm on his body, securing it to the foolish beast before slipping into a trance. As his senses began to expand to the creature beneath him Harry winced. The beasts' power was enormous and shown a brilliant watery silver, as if beams of moonlight had coalesced into flame so bright it hurt to look at even indirectly. Directing his senses to find the animals body instead of its magic. Finding the now torn open wounds Harry began applying his power to them, imagining them pulling together, the flesh knitting and becoming smooth. Harry only had the vaguest idea how to do this having learned from copying Eric's post duel mending so the unicorn would likely bare the marks for the rest of its life as five numb, hairless, streaking scars but it was better than the alternative.

As Harry worked he was surprised to see that the unicorns' magic didn't fight him like the gobbling sorcery in his money or the other students when his spells interacted with their bodies but rather helped out, as if the unicorn saw what he was doing and lent him its power to finish the job. It made him wonder how truly intelligent the creature was. Shaking himself Harry discarded the idea and got back to work. Smart horses, right, next thing he knew Neville's toad would start talking to him. That would be the day.

Harry was working on the fourth line of cuts when an oppressive aura of power settled over the area. To his senses it looked like a mixture of purple light and wispy black tar. Harry pulled back and shook himself out of his trance quickly, unlike the unicorns light where the pain was like looking directly at a light bulb the dark energies genuinely hurt as they interacted with his own power made him feel sick and dirty, like that time Dudley had pushed him through a hole in the ground and he'd ended up swimming in the little winging sewers.

Waking up he found himself attached to a rearing, screeching unicorn. Releasing his sticking charm Harry rolled off the creatures back to find it trying to attack what looked like another wizard except that its arms were bending the wrong way and several feet of cloak slithered along the forest floor like a snake as it moved. Only pausing a moment to wonder what kind of cursed being could possibly match this description Harry attacked.

_**123456789098764321**_

Hagrid Barreled through the forest heedless of the branches and underbrush that tried to grab at his face and legs. _**Damn it Harry!**_ He swore in his head. _**Bad enough that a unicorn was being attacked, but he'd have to run off with the beast, wouldn't he? Just like his father and Black, always rushing off unto danger.**_ He sighed as he came up on a tree with a large smear of blood on it. _**Damn ruddy beast!**_ He grabbed the two trunks as he passed and shoved them to the side ignoring the groaning cracks as he did so. _**Unicorn's probably bleed out by now**_ he mused _**probably find it soon with Harry and all. Hope they don't meet whatever attacked the poor thing, not much that can hurt a fully grown unicorn.**_

As Hagrid continued smashing his way through the forest following the trail of silvery blue blood he wondered absently if he should be pleased or worried that the amount of blood he had to follow was diminishing. Harry had promised to heal the beast but the way it's wounds had ripped open on that tree…

He pushed for greater speed, grunting as tree trunks splintered and snapped under his hands. He was going to need the tweezers tonight.

Finally Hagrid crashed his way into a clearing where he found Harry, a pair of injured unicorns and a… thing. Hagrid racked his mind trying to figure out what it was but came up blank, a thing that was impressive in itself. As much as there were few things the half giant knew, only that Scamander boy in seventh year had ever stumped him on a question of beasts, magical or otherwise. Whatever it was, the snake like face was covered in the unicorns' blood and it was practically dancing through the air as it traded shots with Harry, inky bolts of power and other dark colored lights flying in position to forks of lightning and streams of fire.

Hagrid watched as the creature tried to flee only for a bunch of rocks and branches to fly up from the forest floor to ensnare it and drag the cloaked figure back to the forest floor with a crash. Harry dove in the dark entity a whirl of tree branches flying toward the thing on the ground, trying to skewer it and Hagrid turned away from the battle. There was little he could do in this type of fight other than get in the way and there were unicorns to tend to.

Hagrid crashed to his knees beside the unicorn on the ground and scowled. The poor creature had a large gash in its side, the cuts going deep enough to regularly show ribs between the pools of blood. There were also smudges in the blood that looked like whatever it was Harry was fighting had been after the poor horse for its magical blood. That meant that whatever it was, was both dying, and dark enough that it didn't care about the cures that came with tasting unicorn blood.

Pulling his umbrella that contained the broken pieces of his wand from the back of his jacket he began concentrating like Eric has been instruction him. Calm your mind and dive deep within that feeling, find the house of your inner self, open the door to your power, take a handful of the light therein and shape it to your will, the release. Opening his now faintly glowing eyes Hagrid pointed his umbrella at the beasts wounds and spoke "_**Episkey.**_"

It wasn't the best healing spell for this situation but it was both suitably general purpose and, really, the only one he knew. Regardless he kept the point of his umbrella as steady as he could as he channeled the spell along the side of the wound. It was closing slowly, but the fact was that it was closing. Putting a finger to the side of the beasts' throat he felt a slow, weak pulse and shallow breathing. Odds were the horse was still going to die before he could get back with a blood replenishment potion but at least he could give it a chance.

A trio of thumps sounded behind him over the howls of Harry and his opponent and Hagrid turned around. Behind him Eric was grumbling about needing to work on the breaking spell and Padma was cooing over the pair of unicorns.

"We're going to kill him." The second girl, a small Chinese kid, said before launching back into the air to join Harry. As Padma took over for him in the position of healer Hagrid turned to Flitwick who was muttering in a foreign language and launching eerily colored spells toward the battle ground.

"**Professor, these unicorns ne' blood replenishmen' potions ifn thar goin ter survive ter get propa trea'men. Think you coul' summon a few from 'ere?**"

"Certainly" the little man squeaked, not even looking around as he jabbed his wand in the direction the quartette had flown and thrilling "Accio, blood replenishment potions!" before going back to the battle.

Hagrid paused for a moment before shrugging and heading for the second unicorn, the one that Harry had ridden here and got to work mending the gash in its coat.

_**1234567890987654321**_

_Voldemort_ Harry thought viciously as he flew at the creature throwing balls of fire and arcs of electricity at it. _How could it be Voldemort!? He'd killed that bastard already, everyone said so! What had really happened that night the creepy snake like horror at stolen his parents from him? _As the black cloaked monster continued to dodge or turn aside his attacks Harry had the hazy thought that this must be what Eric felt like whenever he thought of that night. It wasn't a pleasant revelation.

Harry jerked slightly as another two bodies joined his flight after the pale white demon and Harry fought his way through the redness in his vision to see who it was.

_Eric, it's not working,_ he heard Su's voice in his head. _I've never seen him this angry before!_

_Keep trying, I'm going to use that parch of brambles to try and bind it. Damn guy's strong to be able to fly without help._ He heard Eric answer back. Good, his friends were here. He was going to choke the life out of that bastard once and for all and if they could help him pin it down so much the better.

As the vines and branches wrapped around his enemy Voldemort began to taunt him again. $Just give me the stone.$ he hissed. $I can bring your parents back and we'll rule this world together! Your rage is strong, that, right, don't resist, give in to it!$

$I don't know what you did last time,$ Harry snarled, unconsciously using the same language as the monster before him $but it won't happen again! My name is Harry James Potter, you killed my parents, now prepare to die!$ Harry had no idea why he said that, but it was a mark of how deeply Eric's presence had affected him that he didn't immediately think that statement was absurd. He slammed into the creature, for it was no man anymore; his hands wrapped around its throat and squeezed thumbs pressing into the spine where there should have been a throat.

As purple eyes full of grief and pain stared into crimson orbs of burning hate Harry felt the shadow of the dark lord scream as his flesh and mind burned at the clash of power. His scar throbbed like someone was trying to hammer a hot poker into his forehead and four finds frantically scrabbled at the edge of his own, desperate to get in. Harry poured the memories of every bit of pain, humiliation and loneliness he had suffered under the hands of the Dursleys into maintaining his shields while sending a vague feeling of happiness and safety he felt at the sight of his parents in the mirror of Erised to counter his enemies attack.

Voldemort screamed again, a base animalistic howl that chilled Harry's bones as the skin beneath his fingers began to sough off and flake away. His hands slipped as the man's flesh continued to burn at his touch and its mind under his probe. He was going to have nightmares about this later, said a hazy thought at the back of his mind. Just like Eric, when he first discovered his magic.

As Voldemorts body turned to ash and fell apart before him a black vapor, like the bolts of magic his enemy had been throwing around earlier began to rise from the flesh and collect above the figures hood. As the smoke collected a face like the one that had just crumbled away began to form in the center before flying away in a trail of shadow.

"So that's how he did it…" Harry whispered before a powerful wave of exhaustion crashed into him and he fell toward the forest floor.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Eric caught Harry as he fell, floating slowly to the ground, a queer look on his face. "You saw that too right?" he asked Su.

"The part where Harry defeated a demon by touching it and it turned into a wraith before fleeing? I think so." The Asian girl replied. "It's going to be hard to get back to studying today after this."

Eric pulled out his Rolex and checked the time. "It's diner time anyways." He shrugged, feet touching the ground. Su nodded absently, still looking at the scarred boy in Eric's arms as they made their way back to the clearing.

"Mr. Stark!" Professor Flitwick squeaked as they came into view. "I tried to follow you, but this section of the forest is rather dense. What happened to Mr. Potter?"

Eric lay Harry on the leaves near the Unicorns and turned to the 3 foot tall professor "Harry defeated the demon and then fainted. Exhaustion I think, the creature turned into a wraith when its body was destroyed and flew off that way." He pointed behind them.

"A wraith you say?" the little man hummed, "Not likely, Wraiths generate a palpable aura of fear and attack the souls of the nearest victim when their previous host body has been destroyed. You'll find out about various similar species in seventh year. Don't worry, they aren't that common and the few there are are usually heavily policed by their local governments pending a way to eliminate them entirely."

Eric, Su and Padma looked at each other before pulling out identical notebooks and made a note to corner Quirrel on the subject later. The man was astonishingly well informed when you could keep him from stuttering too much or running away…

Padma stood up from where she was resting against a unicorn and announced that it would be OK. The blood restoratives were meant for humans rather than magical horses so it would take an hour or so but Hagrid was certain they'd be fine. As if to prove the point the pair struggled to their feet and trotted over to the children. As the horses stopped before the four of them the one with the large gash in its side started to glow slightly before touching Harry with its horn, while the other did the same to Padma. As the spiral horns touched flesh the glow flowed down the unicorn's coats and into the bodies of the two children making Flitwick gasp.

"I get the feeling I missed something." Eric said as the horses went over to Hagrid and repeated the effect before running off into the forest.

Padma glared at him while Su giggled. Eric scratched the back of his head nonplussed for several moments before Flitwick took pity on him. "I'm fairly astonished one of my claws didn't know this, you especially Mr. Stark. The blessing of a unicorn is given to those who the herds feel have done them a great service and will protect the blessed from all known poisons and diseases. Also, while it has never been substantiated those blessed by unicorns occasionally claim the ability to detect evil or malicious intent in those around them. I suspect Mr.'s Potter, Hagrid and Ms. Patil were blessed because Harry defeated the being that hurt them whilst the other two healed some fairly grievous injuries."

"Huh, I guess that would explain the civilian legends that unicorn horn was a powerful restorative for the sick."

Su hit him.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Dumbledore sat at his desk, hands folded before him in quiet contemplation. Quirrel was dead, Voldemort once more bodiless and alone and the Stone was still safely locked away. The old man spared a glance for another ministry summons to address the complaints of dear Sir Nicolas, but only a glance. Stealing the stone, really, here he was protecting a precious artifact from a dark lord and the world at large from the chaos such an artifact would cause on the loose and they were accusing him of stealing. As if his friend and former teacher hadn't allowed him access to the jewel on multiple occasions!

As much as things were going well however there was one _little_ snag. It has been almost a week and Harry still hadn't woken up. A few days was pretty much par for the course when dealing with cases of magical exhaustion but six days? Dumbledore shook his head. How large would the boys core have to be for him to spend a week recovering from magical exhaustion? He was only eleven after all…

The headmaster looked over at a golden perch just behind his desk where Faux waited obediently. Perhaps a few phoenix tears wouldn't be amiss? One of two should do it, or he could get the stone. The boy was young enough that there was nothing the artifacts effects could really do to change him and either course of action would get the boy working again. It was deeply unlikely that this episode would satisfy the prophecy between the two of them so the boy would still be needed.

Standing up from his desk the ageing sorcerer made his way out of his office and towards the third floor. He wondered briefly along the way if Harry might be able to survive the battles to come and have a life after everything was said and done. It was a pleasant thought and one he would put some effort into researching, but he rather doubted it. After all, either must die by the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. That was how the prophesy went wasn't it?

Presently he reached the wooden door that hid Hagrid's pet, Fluffy, and opened it. With a wave of his wand a mote of soft golden light shot out and hovered in front of the Cerberus' head, singing a song Dumbledore had been fond of in his youth. It was a popular one that had been dredged up by many an artist over the centuries, most recently a muggle by the name of Leanne Rimes if he wasn't mistaken.

"Some say love it is a river, that drowns, the tender reed. Some say love it is a razor, that leaves your soul to bleed. Some say love it is a hunger, an endless aching need. I say love it is a flower, and you it's only seed. It's the heart, afraid of breaking that never learns to dance. It's the dream, afraid of waking, that never takes the chance. It's the one who won't be taken, who cannot seem to give. And the soul, afraid of dying, that never learns to live. And the night has been too lonely, and the road has been too long. And you feel that love is only, for the lucky, and the strong. Just remember, in the winter, Far beneath the bitter snow, Lies a seed, that with the sun's love, in the spring, becomes a rose..."

Albus cut off his descent as the last strains of the song pulled at his ears and heart nearly 50 feet above him. A wonderful bit of work he thought as he continued through the rooms, Lumos solem to deal with the devils snare, an enchanted bird to retrieve flying key, a four step game of chess with himself as the king, a quick set of overpowered bludgeoning to clear out the trolls and then a quick sip of Snape's potion and he was in front of the mirror of Erised. There was a brief pause as he saw his family restored and dear Gellert on his arm before he cleared his mind and focused solely on the stone. There was a moment or two pause as the mirror fought him, but the ruby red crystal made it's way into his pocket in short order.

He briefly considered deconstructing the traps and just keeping the stone with him but decided against it. Flamel would get tired of dealing with bureaucrats soon enough and come to Hogwarts directly, and what a bit of fun that would be…

Dumbledore paused and he was about to grab one of the brooms in the key room to get back up. Actually that did sound like fun! With all of the problems he usually had finding defense teachers perhaps he could use the stone to coax the old coot out of retirement for a year or so! Nick would be furious and there would be lots of cursing, but if there was one thing he could say about the man with absolute certainty it was that he took teaching seriously. Feeling much happier then when he had started Albus snatched the broom from against the wall and made his way up the tunnel. He recast the song charm as soon as he neared the trap door and hung around in the doorway to the third floor until the song ended before shutting the door quietly.

Returning to his office to fetch a crystal vial the wizened headmaster held the stone over the opening and began channeling his magic… only for nothing to happen.

Dumbledore froze. The stone felt like it was fighting him… that hadn't happened the last time he had used it, in fact it had seemed almost eager to suck in as much magic as it could, subtly encouraging him to make use of it! He uncapped his hand and raised the elder wand to begin performing diagnostics on it and stilled again. It was _glowing_. The sorcerer's stone didn't glow, not even when you channeled magic into it. Fast as a whip he began casting spell after spell to determine exactly what he was dealing with. For a brief second he dared to hope that the stone had simply reacted badly with the containment spell he had worked into the mirror but as the readings on the object in his hand crashed into his mind his face turned to a mask of horror. This was not the stone. It was a replica, cleverly disguised and forged of goblin magic. Not only that there was something added to it with human magic. Turning it over so that the bottom faced up he ran his fingers along the surface of the stone. There was a small rough patch that felt not like stone, but parchment instead. Muttering a quick series of spell breakers he took the formerly shrunken and disillusioned note and opened it up with shaking fingers.

"Evil overlord rule 34. I will not leave the one item that is the key to my power atop the mountain of doom, across the river of fire, beyond the plains of despair and guarded by the dragons of eternity. Instead it shall be safely stored away in my anonymous and innocuous safety deposit box along with the item that is my one weakness."

Dumbledore's wordless scream could be heard throughout the entire castle.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Harry Potter, much to his own dismay, awoke only a few hours later to find that, despite the comfort of his friends having gathered to watch over him, he still had a Quidditch match against Ravenclaw to play and finals to study for. "So much for getting a break." Were his words upon hearing the news. As Ma'am Pomphrey bustled around waving her wand around and stuffing potions in his hands Harry and his friends filled each other in on what had been going on. Harry was a little surprised to hear that Professor Quirrel was had disappeared immediately following the battle in the forest and Harry told them what the newly dubbed quirelmort had used to taunt him in the man's effort to 'turn him to the dark side'. Everyone glared at Eric as he made a cheesy movie reference but grew quiet as he revealed that Dumbledore had the sorcerers stone hidden in the castle basement.

"Well, at least we know it's well protected!" Fred quipped.

"If quirrelmort was planning to make himself

a proper body with it and he was still possessing

a teacher, he obviously hadn't been able to

manage it!" the pair traded back and forth grinning.

For the most part everyone agreed with this line of reasoning, except Eric who was suddenly, deliberately, not paying attention to them and tossing a rubber ball up and down looking guilty. Harry glared at him, but had the sense to wait until Madam Pomphrey was gone before cutting into him. "OK, Eric, what did you do!"

"Do?" Eric said, still tossing the ball, "who says I did anything?"

Harry grabbed the ball and pulled it across the curtained space to his hands and glared at his friend. "You always get that smug edgy look in your eyes when you've done something wrong." Harry accused. "You were wearing that same look when you charmed Pansy Parkinson to speak only in limericks for a week and again that day the teachers table couldn't stop farting! What did you do!?"

Everybody was looking at him intently now. "That was you?" George grinned.

"We've been a good influence after all!" Fred sobbed mock happily.

Eric rolled his eyes and did his best to huff as if he was offended. "Really, Harry, this paranoia is worrisome; I don't need to call Ma'am Pomphrey over here to see if fighting quirlemort had s deeper effect than we realized do I?"

"Eric!" Hermione, Su and Padma were all growling at him now too.

"Come on!" Eric protested, summoning his ball back in a flash of light. "He was taunting me with it! I couldn't just leave it there when it was so badly protected! Who knows what might have happened?"

Harry put his face in his hands and groaned. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't go to Dumbledore with this." He asked his friend, he voice slightly muffled by his fingers.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure he already knows about it." Eric replied thinking of the scream he'd heard just hour ago. "In fact I'm certain of it."

"When?" Harry asked, not entirely certain he wanted to know.

"Before Christmas." Eric said smugly. "And since neither Dumbledore or Quirrlemort came to take it from me I think it's fairly well safe."

"Merlin, Eric, why?" asked Blaise.

Eric gave a disgusted look. "Because it was so poorly protected" He said. "I'm a thief, it's what I do. There's a certain thrill to breaking into things that don't belong to you and doing so without anyone knowing the difference is an art form. This set of traps though were so simple I'd put good up money that the Weasley's little brother could do it."

Fred and George winced. "I don't suppose you're going to give it back?" Hermione asked, her voice strained.

"No, of course not, naturally!" Eric said, looking shocked. "If I'd taken the rock from its owner, sure, I guess, but the stone was stolen goods by the time I found it so I got it fair and square!"

Harry groaned, pulling the skin on his cheeks down in consternation. "What can I do to get you to swear you'll return the rock to its rightful owner?"

Eric, put his chin in his hands and thought for several minutes. "You could all start by swearing that this goes no further than these curtains…" he trailed off.

Harry heaved a big sigh. "We swea…"

"On your magic." Eric cut in. "And I want you to travel with me this summer as well."

Harry glared at him. "Only if you make an oath on yours as well."

"Fair enough." The redhead grinned happily. Everybody put their hands in together and swore not to tell a sole what Eric had just revealed to them and Harry swore to come with Eric on a 'summer training trip', an event that the dark haired boy was only too happy to agree to, any time away from the Dursley's was good by him. Then it was Eric's turn. "I Eric Sirius Stark to herby swear on my magic to seek out the true owner of the philosophers stone and see to it that it is returned to them. So mote it be." He had deliberately failed to add a time frame to this promise and hoped that no one caught it. He'd get to it eventually, but he fully intended to get a sample of the rock first. Waste not, want not and all that rot.

_**1234567890987654321**_

The rest of term passed quickly. Ravenclaw beat Gryffindor at Quidditch, 320 to 250 Gryffindor with the snitch, and the rest of the teachers took over Quirrels abandoned classes in shifts, Snape teaching the first years, much to Harry's dismay. After finals and a feast the House cup was announced. Dumbledore directed everyone's attention to the four great hourglasses only for everyone to fall silent. Earlier that morning, and even at lunch, the glasses had read Hufflepuff, with 456 points, Gryffindor and Slytherin at 472 and Ravenclaw, with an even 500, breaking Slytherin's winning streak off at seven and winning the cup for the first time in twenty years. It was something the Claws had been quite proud of and they'd been bragging about it for weeks.

Now however every hourglass read the same number, 475. That wasn't even the strangest part because where each of the bulbs used to contain only a single type of gemstone, they were now all a random, almost nauseating mix of ruby, emerald, sapphire and citrine. The tables went wild, everyone wanting to know what had happened, Ravenclaw cried fowl, Slytherin jeered, Hufflepuff laughed and Gryffindor called for the cup. After several tries to calm everybody down the wizened headmaster repeated Halloween and set off a blasting curse near the ceiling.

After a few minutes sorting things out Ravenclaw was awarded the cup and everyone dug in eating themselves sick.

The next day was a rush to get everyone packed and ready to go on the train home. Eric, who had never really unpacked what with his trunk practically being its own apartment, spent most of that time talking with Su and Padma about their addresses and how to keep in contact. The Indian girl got a strange look in her eye and sent off her owl just before they left for the harbor beside the great hall. He wasn't sure why but that Owl was giving him a weird feeling he just couldn't shake.

The ride back to kings cross was much shorter than the one to Hogwarts and the inner circle, plus Percy to the twin's dismay, all crammed into a hastily expanded compartment. It was companionable and they talked and joked and reviewed everything that had happened over the year. Each of them talked about their plans for the summer and Harry and Eric, both sandwiched between a pair of girls, talked about whether or not they wanted to let Harry stay at the Dursleys before going on holiday.

As they neared the station Harry decided that he wanted to see his guardian's reaction to Eric's magical control exercises and the fact that they couldn't be tracked like a wand could. As they stepped out onto the platform an owl swooped down to land on Padma's shoulder holding a package. The girl grabbed his arm and untied it, before putting the bird back in it's cage with a pair of owl treats and a stroke of the neck. She gave him one of the small wrapped brown paper parcels and kissed him on the cheek before running off to join her parents hear the Flue.

The redhead stood their shocked for several long minutes as people flowed around him before looking at the parcel in his hands. Unwrapping it he found the Item was a mirror.

A Magic Mirror.

This ends book one of Back in Black.  
Don't worry, those of you who like it, I'm going to continue, but I'd like your votes on whether to cut it off here and post year two as a separate story or string everything together in one long chain story.  
Thank you for your reviews, patience and love.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: OK, the only people who've responded over the last week seem to like the continuous string theory so Here come chapter 8, where the original plot truly starts to die. I hope you continue to enjoy my work and, as always, please review. As with the first I'll accept anything from 'cool' to 'WTF ARE YOU DOING, ZOMG YOU FAIL!' so long as you can give me a dissertation on **why**…

Also, little shout out to dobbyelflord who's works have contributed small bits to several chapters and a direct quote here during the Azkaban visit. Permission was attained a while ago.

Chapter 8

June 10th 1992, 1130am Lloyds Bank London

Eric walked through the doors of the bank illusion firmly in place and headed for a teller. "Hello sir, how may I help you today?" said the man behind the counter.

Eric tweaked his illusionary form to smile and spoke. "Howard Stark" he said, handing the man his bank card. "I'm here to make a withdrawal." There were a few seconds while the clerk typed in his information before raising a brow in slight shock. "I would like ten thousand straight in 50 or 100 pound notes if you could." The man paled this time.

"Is there any particular reason sir? Are you unhappy with our service?" the teller asked; mouth dry.

"Not at all, I've simply found an investment I'd like to take advantage of." Eric replied smiling.

Color returned to the man's face and he printed out a form from the computer beneath the desk. "Please take this to the accountants on the second floor, third door on your right. Fill everything out in triplicate."

Eric nodded "I'll be back shortly to let the bank know how things went." He said before walking off.

Half an hour later Eric left the bank with a briefcase full of paper and headed for Diagon Alley. Apparating to the gap between Florien Fortisques and a small knickknack shop Eric headed for Gringotts bank, still in his illusion as a 'muggle' businessman in a bowler hat. The young boy smirked slightly as he noticed the sheer number of stares he was attracting and pushed through the gold double doors. Joining the shortest of the lines Eric waited to be served, laughing slightly as he had to defend his briefcase against the spells of a few patrons. Deciding to have a little fun he turned the illusions head 170 degrees and split the face in a sharp toothed grin, 'looking' directly into the eyes of one of the culprits. The woman flinched and turned away.

Eric had a hard time maintaining the illusion against his laughter for the rest of his wait to see a goblin. "Human." The manikin before him intoned as he stepped up to the desk. Eric glanced at the creatures nametag briefly before speaking.

"Skullscraper." He replied, dropping the forward section of the illusion. "I would like to open a Gringotts account." He said shortly, placing his leather case on the desk and opening it. "Ten thousand sterling." The green figure looked between him, the edges of the remaining illusion and the money before speaking.

"Welcome back, Stark." the creature sneered. "Close your case and follow the guide we provide you. The goblin nation hasn't forgotten your last visit and are… eager… to do business with you." Eric nodded and did as he was directed, following a new goblin named Bonecrunch up a set of red velvet stairs. After a short walk down a hall he was shown through a large stained oak door. The office within could easily have been considered plush, there was a massive teak desk, stained wooden paneling everywhere, gold accents were numerous and the floor and chairs were coveredinhighquality blood red velvet. It could have been a lawyer or judges study if not for the fact that instead of books the walls were covered with severed heads of various beasts, goblins, other magical races and the occasional wizard, their wands nailed where one would normally expect to find a nameplate.

On the desk was a golden name plate that said Raspgore Flitwick. Eric didn't quite gape, but he did stare openly at the name before looking up slightly into the smugly grinning face of the wrinkled goblin. "My half-brother," the goblin said with a toothy smile "the mad bomber. Yeah, most humans are surprised to see that. I understand you're here to open an account, eh?"

"Yes," Eric replied placing the briefcase on the desk and dropping his illusion completely "10000 sterling." He finished, opening the latches.

Raspgore nodded. "I'll see that this is processed." He said shortly, opening a drawer on his large desk and pulling out a runed bowl and a knife. "Cut your palm and allow some blood to flow into the bowl then sign these forms and fingerprint them in blood as well. Your vault will be 3794." Eric nodded and split his palm, surprised as it didn't hurt any and closed quickly after a small pool of blood collected in the stone basin. Eric took the papers and began to read them carefully in an effort to make sure he wasn't signing away anything important as opposed to opening a simple account.

"Mr. Stark" Raspgore spoke as he went over the papers. "When you were last here the goblin nation expressed an interest in buying your method of concealment and remote interaction. What are you willing to part with the information and items for."

Eric looked up sharply, brows raised in surprise. He'd quite forgotten about that until now. "The information's quite free, master banker" Eric said simply. Goblins existed on cruelty McGonagall had told him and bins constant lectures in magical history offered no counter point to this so he was interested to see how the miniature would react to the truth, after all, as is often said, the truth hurts. "I've developed my powers as a human wizard beyond the need for a wand as a point of necessity while I lived as a street rat. My method is a simple application of glamor's and telekinesis." The green man gave a disgusted snarl but paused, seeing Eric grinning. "However, given a few years of study in runes and arithmancy and a proper incentive to do so, I'm sure it wouldn't be difficult to create such an apparatus. Given the way you brought this up I assume Gringotts has an offer?" he finished pressing his thump to the bottom of one of the pages and turning to the next one.

The creature smirked and nodded. "We do indeed. We're prepared to offer you 200 galleons per unit payable on delivery and demonstration."

"500." Eric replied.

"250" came the counter.

"450."

"275"

"400."

"300, final offer."

"Make it 317 and you've got a deal."

The goblin gave him a strange look. "317? That's an oddly specific number."

"I've been a sneak thief for a couple of Muggle crime bosses, this is the part where they either start laughing and agree on the price or one of them gets shot in the face." Eric explained, smiling. "I'd prefer to avoid that last one."

The goblin gave him a flat look. "300, take it or leave it."

"Tough crowd" Eric said frowning. "Fine; 300 galleons payable to my account upon delivery and demonstration" Eric agreed.

As the Goblin opened another drawer to pull out an official document to record the deal Eric's eyes were attracted to a flashing light off to the side. "Um, Raspgore, your bowl is flashing."

The green man's face popped up over the desk from where he was shuffling around papers and he looked where Eric was pointing. "Now that's odd, it only does that if the applicant already has access to a vault at the bank." The yoda wannabe tossed a sheet of paper at him and Eric caught it, reading a transcript of their negotiations and a summary of the finished deal ending with a place for two signatures. "Human, come here."

"What's up?" the redhead asked floating over to the desk.

"Place your hand on this pad here and don't flinch." The sharp toothed gremlin replied, grabbing his hand and pressing it against a small circle of stone that had slid out of the base of the bowl. There was a burning sensation like he has stuck his hand on the side of a pot of coffee and then nothing.

"Well, well, well… what have we here?" the creature smirked, looking at the crest that had appeared when Eric removed his hand. "Heir of the house of Black, main line." The goblin took a few moments to enjoy the look on Eric's face before continuing. "Since your fathers still alive the family vaults will remain sealed to you until you reach majority or emancipation but confirmation of an heir, once processed, will open a trust vault for your use."

The goblin laughed manically as Eric dropped from the air and landed on his ass, looking stunned. Heir to and old family? And one rich enough to gift out trust vaults too… It was a little much to handle. Eric's mind whirled as he went over the details. His mother, Maria, had met his father, Sirius, of the now named Black family, in a bar for a night of drunken revelry culminating in a pleasant enough experience to convince his mother to keep him. The same man was apparently both alive and had a personal or family history that was both famously promiscuous and open minded enough that they'd accept bastards, an odd thing in medieval or even Victorian societies. Further noted that it named him heir he was either the first or perhaps only child of said man who was in turn the heir or possibly head of named noble family. All of this and the image of the man, possibly his father, that he'd seen in the mirror of Erised flashed though his mind in under a second, but everything was overshadowed by a single thought.

My father's alive.

That in of itself opened up an entirely new can of worms. He'd always known it was a possibility but considering the sheer number of factors involved his father easily could have been anyone. That he was not only alive and a wizard to boot but the head of a family large enough to offer money to strays… It was too much to process at the moment.

"H-his n-n-name," Eric stuttered "It's Sirius Black I take it?" he asked.

"Sharp for a human worm, aren't you?" came the reply and Eric snapped around to glare at the wrinkled green visage.

He stood up abruptly, all business. "In that case I want this converted directly into gold and loaded in a deposit bag. I will await your owl for confirmation of my trust vault over the summer. I don't suppose you would be able to tell me where I might contact my father? I'd like to set up a meeting as soon as possible." He said briskly.

"You don't read a whole lot do you, human?" the Goblin said slowly, giving him a shrewd look.

Eric glared, still too confused and in shock to get properly offended. "I'm a Ravenclaw," he shot back "I read quite a lot, thanks."

The goblins smile became positively predatory at this. "Then I'm sure it won't surprise you to know that Sirius Orion Black is currently serving a life sentence in Azkaban prison for selling the Potters out to Voldemort."

_**1234567890987654321**_

Eric lay in his trunk staring morosely at the ceiling, absently floating galleons in a chaotic swarm as he thought about what to do. As soon as Raspgore had given him his gold he'd rushed out to the alley and immediately interrogated Mr. Flourish at the book store, looking for any and every reference he had to the name Sirius Black. What he had found was not particularly encouraging.

Sirius Orion Black, born first of two sons to Orion and Walburga Black, had distinguished himself early in life by not following the family tradition of sorting himself into Slytherin the first in a very LONG time apparently. Sirius became known quickly thought out Hogwarts as the black sheep of the Black family and was constantly and publicly at odds with his parents. Sirius became friends with James Potter and Remus Lupin and the trio distinguished themselves as both genius's and troublemakers and a level the Weasley twins struggled to match. When war broke out between Voldemort and Dumbledore he had sided with Albus, at least publically. Headstrong, fun loving and womanizer were words people around the alley had used to describe their memories of the man who had been best man at the Potters wedding. But then something had changed, shortly after Harry's birth the man had become harried and snappish and there were rumors of Sirius plans to pull out of the war and vague whispers of a prophecy. Not long after the Potters were dead and Sirius was apprehended on the streets of London in full view of the public casting a blasting charm on a former friend who accused him of betraying the Potters. When the arresting officers arrived on scene moments later the man was laughing his head off and didn't stop even as they dragged him to Azkaban prison and threw away the key.

Eric frowned as he thought about that. Had there ever been a trial? He couldn't remember ever having heard or read about one during his search for information. His frown deepened, going over every scrap of information he'd been able to find, examining it as if he had it right in front of his nose. Nothing… There had never been a trial. That struck him as slightly odd, there was eye witness testimony from over a hundred civilian witnesses the ministry obliviators had detained on scene, memories had been collected, a dozen bodies catalogued and the remaining sludge of the man, Peter something, sifted through, but there had been no trial. Even if they were absolutely certain the man was guilty why wouldn't there be a trial? At the absolute minimum it would give someone a chance to gloat and prop themselves up on the political capital of sentencing the man who allegedly killed the parents of their wonder child.

He needed to know. He had to see the man, confront him. Even if it was only so he could curse his father's name in peace, he had to know why.

Clambering back up to his room in the Leaky Cauldron Eric summoned the gold he had acquired from Gringotts and shrunk the box into his pocket. It had been a week since he'd found out about his Black and six days since he'd sent an owl to Harry. It hurt him that the boy hadn't replied, but he wasn't entirely surprised. It was bad enough for him to find out his father had been at least partially responsible for his friend being an orphan, how much worse was it for Harry to hear right after finding out that the man who'd actually done the murdering was still hanging around?

Eric shook his head. Padma had been sympathetic when he'd called her over the mirror, but he needed to see Harry in person. It wouldn't do to simply give up and lose the boy as a give up and lose the boy as a friend, that just wasn't who he was.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Harry walked across the ceiling of the kitchen, holding back a smirk as his aunt Petunia paled and hastily started crossing herself. No matter how many times he did it his… guardians… reactions were still funny. If it weren't for the silence from his friends this would have been the best summer he'd ever spent since moving in with these… people seemed too nice a word for them… hmm, he'd have to put a bit of thought into that one.

Harry grabbed a sandwich and headed back to his room, reaching out a lazy hand to summon another movie from the Dursley's cassette shelf. Despite his ability to cast spells wandlessly he still made an effort to keep things out of the eyes of the rest of the neighborhood, wandless magic notwithstanding, he very much doubted the ministry would be pleased if he just started using his powers willy-nilly and more than that was absolutely certain for all Eric's brash power the boy wouldn't be able to protect him from repeated violations of the statue of secrecy.

Still, it had helped him with his relatives, scaring petunia and Vernon absolutely shitless without him even needing to bother intimidating them. An invisible shield here, a bit of flying there, summon a few harmless bits of entertainment material and the Dursleys were so afraid of him he didn't have to worry about meals or chores anymore! He wondered briefly if that made him a bad person, but shrugged it off almost as quickly as his mind conjured references to the constant small abuses he'd suffered over the years.

On the other hand, he was getting bored. And worried too come to that… Hedwig, his poor owl, had returned from over a dozen trips to deliver mail ruffled and without a response of any kind. At first he'd fallen back on old worries of abandonment but as the incidents multiplied he was beginning to suspect foul play.

He opened his door in Dudley's old room and prepared to levitate the movie (Disney's Aladdin) into one of Dudders old TV's when he stopped suddenly.

"Yo, Potter, what's up? You don't call, you don't write, one might almost think you didn't care!" Eric was sitting on his bed, stroking Hedwig. Harry blinked his eyes a few times and rubbed them to make sure he wasn't seeing thing.

"W-what?!" he spluttered, spraying bits of bread and turkey across his friends lap before swallowing. "Me?! If anything you're the one who's been ignoring me! All of you have! Do you know how many times I've sent out Hedwig in the last week and a half only for her to comeback empty handed?"

Eric gave him a long piercing look before speaking slowly. "Then… you don't know? You haven't…"

"Don't know what? What haven't I done?" Harry burst out. "I've been spending the summer here thinking my friends had abandoned me!"

"Oh, nothing particularly important," Eric replied airily, waving his hand. "We've all been talking and thought you were ignoring us so I was elected to come and check up on you." He lied.

"You're doing that thing again…" Harry growled. "I really don't know why you bother trying to lie to me anymore, Eric; you're not very good at it."

"Or maybe you just know me too well." Eric returned with a grin. "Well, look at the time!" he exclaimed suddenly, whipping out and unshrinking his trunk. "Let's get packing shall we? We've got a vacation to go on remember?"

Harry gave him another suspicious look before going to the door. He pulled it open roughly and shouted "Petunia, Vernon, diddy-dumkins! I'm leaving, thanks for the hospitality! And keep my room clean while I'm gone!" he turned back to a thoroughly bemused looking Eric and said "What?"

"Oh, nothing" Eric said again in that same voice. "Simply that your relationship with your… uh, relatives… is significantly different than you portrayed it at school."

Harry smirked. "Makes me feel bad sometimes" he admitted "but you teaching me wandless magic that allows me to get around the underage restriction has added a rather unprecedented dynamic to life here." His smile turned softer for a moment. "Remind me to thank you for that." He said as his personal effects began flying from various places around the room and down the hole of Eric's trunk. As the last item made its way down Harry followed the pair of socks into the trunk and began to search for a room to claim. He came back up shortly after and allowed Eric to reclaim his trunk.

"Keep in telepathic contact and dissolution yourself, Best not to risk the statute of secrecy this close to London." Eric told him abruptly, pulling his hood up and suiting actions to words. "First place we're going to stop is Hermione's, her parents run a dental clinic up in Enfield, it's a town that makes up most of north London."

_I know where Hermione lives _Harry shot back _she gave me her address on the train and we've talked about her family often enough, what with being best friends in the same house!_

_Ho there, buddy,_ Eric snarked back _no need to bite my head off. _The redhead sent as they began their assent into the clouds and arrowed north. _I'm just trying to make sure you know where we're going so there's no need to play catch up. We can play in the clouds if you want, but first we gotta get there!_

_Race you!_ Harry sent and Eric felt the aftershock as his green eyed friend shot past him. Grinning Eric gave chase.

_**1234567890987654321**_

"…ole new world huh?" came a voice from just beyond Hermione's window. The bushy haired genius frowned and put a marker in her book, she lived on the fourth floor of a Tudor apartment, who would possibly be near here window? Setting the tome down she slowly crept toward the panes of glass, left slightly ajar to get a breeze.

"Yeah," said a second. "Great movies that Disney stuff. C'mon, let's do the Peter Pan thing, I think this is her window." Hermione Jean Granger paled slightly. Whoever it was, was looking for her and was intent on entering her room via the window. That meant it was either that annoying neighbor boy who'd just moved into 4f and wouldn't take no for an answer or someone magical. As she powered up a hex in each hand she wondered briefly if Eric had infected her with his paranoia before shrugging it off.

"You know, I think I've been a bad influence on you, Harry" laughed the first. "What are you going to do when she blasts you out of her window?" Harry? Harry! That meant the second voice was Eric! They were all right! Uncurling her hands she bounded up and threw the window wide looking for the pair of boys. After half a second she saw the telltale distortions of Eric's cloaks.

"Get in here you two!" she squeaked, stepping out of the way and gesturing wildly. "Quick, before someone sees you!"

As the two boys floated through her window and landed Eric turned to Harry and quipped. "Y'know, I might be remembering this wrong, but I'm fairly sure Wendy doesn't invite poor orphan Peter into her bedroom Harry."

"Oh shut it." Hermione giggled as she pushed back Harry's hood and gave him a big hug, giggling.

"So what was going on, Harry?" the mousey haired genius burst out. "I mailed you at least five letters already and I know London post isn't the greatest, but it's only to Surry and you should have responded long before now and you have Hedwig! I was really beginning to wo…" Hermione blushed bright red as Harry placed his finger to her lips, quieting her. _This happened a lot_, the bushy haired preteen mused, _you'd think the constant behavioral training would have gotten through by now…_

"There, you see her, sitting there across the way." Eric sang "Boy she got a lot to say, but der someting about her! And ya don know why, but you dyin to try, you wanna… kiss da girl!" Harry grabbed her book and threw it at Eric, who dodged laughing. Harry was blushing now and Hermione wondered why the room was suddenly feeling _very _hot.

"So, it's not that I don't want to see either of you, but…" Hermione temporized.

"What are we doing here?" finished Eric. "Good question! I got something I need to tell Harry and since I'm sure you'll hear it eventually and I don't want him sailing off into the blue or trying to kill me all of a sudden I thought it'd be best to do it here."

"No, Eric," Hermione moaned as Harry stiffened "what did you do this time?"

"Why does it always have to be something I did?" Eric asked, crossing his arms and pouting. At the pair of raised brows he deflated. "It's not what it did this time, but who I am."

"Who you are?" Harry asked, incredulous "We've shared enough memories I'm fairly sure we've had a fairly good picture for most of the year. You're an orphan street kid who ran a magic show and played personal sneak thief for Belfast's seedy underbelly…" Harry summarized "I don't see what you are that we haven't already forgiven."

"Well, bear with me then, because this starts off a little convoluted." Eric sighed. "When your father was at Hogwarts he had three friends." Eric explained. "Two of them were on his level and always getting in the same trouble as him, much like Fred and George, while the third was just a hanger on. They remained close after they graduated but then there was apparently a prophecy, according to the people I talked too. I couldn't find out what it said but shortly after there was a series of attacks. Your parents, Neville's and the fanboy. Now, the evidence is sketchy on the what's and why's but according to the official word Voldemort was led to your parents by one of those friends who later killed the fanboy."

Harry's face was dark and unreadable but his voice remained calm. "That's very good to know, but what does this have to do with you?" the green eyed boy asked.

"The man who reportedly betrayed your parents…" Eric gave a big sigh and continued; pointedly not looking at Harry "was named Sirius Black."

"Oh." Hermione said covering her mouth. "Oh no, Eric, you don't think…"

"I know." The boy said looking down. "I found out at Gringotts last week. I was trying to open a vault and found I had access to the Black family estate. I'm his only son… that we know of at least."

Harry was breathing heavily beside her and Hermione found herself a little scared at the look in his eye. "Eric, I don't blame you for being that man's son, Merlin knows if the Dursley's taught me anything it's you can't choose your family…" the boy closed his eyes and tensed till the point he started shaking before releasing with a hiss "But I think you'll understand if I don't take this well."

"Harry…"

"Not now Hermione." The boy bit out. "I'll be back in time for dinner, I'll meet your parents then." He lifted off and disillusioned, turning to Eric "Don't follow me." He growled before rocketing out the window.

Eric let loose a heavy sigh. "Well, that didn't go half as bad as I'd thought it would."

Hermione hummed worriedly, looking between her remaining friend and the window. "Yes, but how are you taking it?"

Eric was silent for a long moment. "I've been better." He said finally. "On one hand, I've got a dad, yay, on the other, he's a convicted felon and former member of a terrorist organization that targeted the families of several of my closest friends." He grimaced for a moment before speaking again "_and then_ there's the part where I ask myself what he would have thought about me and my mother and everything just goes all pear-shaped."

"I'd like to say I understand," Hermione said quietly "but really I can only imagine. It's got to be hard…" Eric laughed. "Well, come on. I'd like you to meet my parents; I'm really glad the two of you came, we were about to head off to Germany for vacation, Dad's got us a cross country tour set up and…"

_**1234567890987654321**_

Eric ended up having a late lunch with the Grangers and after an attempt by Dan Granger to intimidate his daughter's boyfriend and a short argument, Eric left them with a gold bar and a promise that they'd take care of Harry while they were on vacation. They insisted they'd have done it anyways, but as far as Eric was concerned 5000 pounds certainly wouldn't hurt. They'd been a bit dubious at first having tried Eric's scam with the gold already, but when he offered to write them a check instead they'd shrugged it off.

Now Eric was headed to London. He'd packed and left Harry's effects with the Grangers and now he was headed for the ministry. After a brief stopover at the Leaky Cauldron for directions Harry landed by a phone booth in Whitehall. He looked at the Ferris wheel in the background before stepping into the booth and picking up the phone. 62442, Magic, funny. "Welcome to the ministry of magic," said a bored female voice "please state your name department and business."

"Eric Sirius Stark, umm, law enforcement, family business."

"Thank you, " said the cool female voice. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes." There was a click and a rattle, and Eric saw something slide out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. He picked it up: it was a square silver badge with Eric Stark, filial investigations on it. He pinned it to the front of his coat as the female voice spoke again. "Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

With that the phone box descended into the ground. Not the floor of the box, the entire damn box descended, like that was inconspicuous… After several minutes the movement stopped in the ministry atrium and Eric got out. "Thank you for visiting the ministry of magic." The voice called out again, shooting up into the ceiling like a bullet. Eric briefly wondered if it had come down that fast while he was in it and if so how far underground they were.

Turning around he took in the entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic. It was a large open room covered in dark paneled wood and marble, active fire places covered the walls where wizards and witches popped in and out on business every few seconds. The ceiling was a sky blue dome like the Ravenclaw common room but instead an unimpeded view of the stars there was an ever moving collection of golden runes. In the center of the room was an alabaster fountain adorned with golden statues of a wizard, witch, centaur, goblin and house elf. The Fountain Of Magical Brotherhood read a plaque beneath the statue. Eric fought the urge to openly laugh at the display. Even a casual student of history knew that the centaurs, goblins and humans all hated each other with a burning passion. The centaurs in particular hadn't been on good terms with humans since the death of King Arthur, probably even before if that portrait of Morgana on the 4th floor was to be believed.

Shaking his head Eric headed through the security desk with a sigh of exasperation. Two auror's and a clerk stopping everyone who goes in or out and they don't take your wand… what was the point? Were there wards on the scale that tracked your wand? Did something at the desk register your identity and movements to be monitored by a security office? Eric had no answers as he headed for one of the golden lifts and joined the crowd. The fact that they even allowed him to enter without an escort of some type make him dually nervous and disgusted. He could only hope that they'd decided to overlook him either because they had some impressive ward system or because he was headed to the auror's office and the figured he couldn't possibly cause any trouble in a building full of cops.

Eric paused in his contemplation at that thought. That was actually a pretty good point, what _could _he do in a room full of cops? Become invisible, teleport around and kick all their asses with his apparently impossible ability for wandless magic? Hardly, they could teleport and become invisible too and wanded magic cost less to do and was, for the moment at least, quicker cast as well. The only real advantage he had was that he couldn't effectively be disarmed.

The lift hit the second floor and announced itself as the department of magical law enforcement. Eric stepped out with a number of other passengers and looked around. For all that the magical world seemed to be desperately clinging to the Victorian era the department of magical cops seemed to be straight out of one of those cop shows he used to watch at the shelter on occasion. Shrugging he was about to start looking for someone who's department might be helpful when a hand gripped his shoulder.

"Wotcher kid, whatcha doing here? Aren't you a little young to be wandering around the ministry by yourself?" The owner of the hand was a young woman with violently blue hair and orange eyes. She wore a red robe like a lot of the people he'd seen in his brief time on this level but was missing any sort of badge like the rest of them seemed to be wearing.

"I'm, uh, looking for someone." He blushed, staring into her eyes. He'd never seen anyone with that particular shade before. Sure, Ma'am Hooch had cat eyes, but orange was definitely new… Then her eyes changed to a shocking green and the woman smiled.

"Nymphadora Tonks." She said brightly, sticking out her hand for him to shake, which he did enthusiastically. "I'm an Auror trainee. This is a pretty big place, easy to get lost in, why don't I help you around?"

Eric shrugged, better this than just wandering around clueless. "I'm looking for someone who can take me to Azkaban prison on a matter of family business. I'm not sure where to go though so I figured I'd come here and poke around. If you wanna find a prison, a room full of cops sounds like the right place to start looking." He said grinning.

Tonks laughed and stated walking in a random direction. "Well, that's one way to go about it. Certainly better than being sent there officially. Thing is, why would you ever want to go to a horrible place like that?"

"Oh, you mean the dememtors?" Eric asked following along behind. "I've got a fairly good handle on my fears and if not… I'd worry more for the wraiths than myself."

The woman's hair changed red like his and she gave him a strange look. "Anyone ever tell you you're full of it, kid?"

"All the time." They stopped outside a door marked Office of Magical Corrections.

"Here ya go, kid." The woman said, her hair changing bubblegum pink and eyes a deep blue. "Ol Krik's a little grumpy cause career was went belly up after being assigned so best be polite." She began to walk away and then spun around without breaking stride. "By the way kid, what's your name?" she asked as he opened the door.

"Black." He replied "Eric Sirius Stark nee Black"

_**1234567890987654321**_

Nymphadora Tonks was many things, Auror trainee, hardworking former Hufflepuff, generally kind, exuberant, feisty and 18. At the moment however she'd settle simply for stunned. Black? With a middle name of Sirius? It couldn't be, could it? But he was looking to visit Azkaban for 'family business'. Could she really have a cousin who wasn't a total douche? Mum needed to hear about this right away she decided. Pulling out a mirror she called her mother's name a few times and asked her if she'd be home for dinner and left. This wasn't something to be bandied around in public.

_**1234567890987654321**_

One hour and a hundred galleon bribe later Eric was standing on a pier in Dunbar Scotland ready to sail out to the island. His Auror guard looked less than pleased to see him but that was probably an effect of being stationed on the island in the first place. Needless to say this wasn't a particularly sought after position what with the dementors, the constant shitty weather and the cold all competing to kill you slowly.

Stepping into the little row boat in front of the man Eric frowned at the water in the bottom. This wouldn't do at all he decided as the other man tapped the wooden sides of the boat and they got moving. Pulling out a bit of his power Eric shielded the boat in a rippling violet shell that immediately cut off the roaring elements and began to heat the boats interior. The drab red robed guard looked up in astonishment looking between the world outside the shell and the violet fire flowing from Eric's clawed hand.

"'ow's you doin tha?" he slurred, his accent indecipherable.

"I'm an impatient uppity brat who doesn't like discomfort." Eric answered. "I wanted a shield against the elements, so it happened." The Auror with him rather than get offended just gawked at him as they lost sight of the shore and the island appeared out of nowhere before them. Like Hogwarts the harbor for the island was situated in a grotto underneath the main body of the island. Unlike Hogwarts however it was guarded by a pair of dememtors. As Eric neared the creatures the air began to grow colder and something slimy began scratching at the walls of his mind, trying to find purchase. Unbidden, the memory of his first experience with the black fire floated to the surface of his mindscape and he shuddered. He hadn't been lying when he'd told Ms. Tonks that she should be worried more for the dementors than him, he thought as small motes of ebon plasma began running up his arms.

Then they were passed the creatures and in the prison itself. The Auror he was with led him to a room and opened the heavily runed door for him, ushering him inside. Sitting at a desk, eating his dinner and reading a book sat the warden of Azkaban Prison. The staff of the building was minimal, five men and a couple of house elves to deal with the care and feeding of the prisoners, such as it was. The tower didn't need much else, after all, at any given time there were almost never more than two dozen prisoners in the entire island. On top of that even the nature of the demetors was such that they didn't really even need walls, doors or the frigid North Sea to keep anyone here, the Wraiths that guarded the place kept them trapped within their own minds.

There were 50 cells for every day prisoners, idiots who routinely broke the law and got caught. These cells had fairly short turn overs lasting between a week and six months depending on the severity and iteration of the crime. The magical world did not see much in the way of serious crime. The ability to conjure and transfigure items to meet your needs took away most criminal motives. Minor crimes were punished by loss of a wand temporarily or permanently, home imprisonment (via wards), or use of potions to prevent desire to commit the crime again. Major crimes were limited to murder, rape, Dark Magic use, violent attacks on Muggles, or treason. (Treason covered a wide range from attempts to overthrow the Ministry to repeated/willfully breaking the Statute of Secrecy.)

And of course, you also had to be caught and then convicted to face incarceration at Azkaban.

The current wardens' name was Marius Tal, a surly half-blood who had only worked his way to the middle of the ladder in the DMLE before insulting the wrong person; not that Eric knew this. After explaining that he was here to see the prisoner Sirius Black, Eric ended up having to pay another bribe, this time only 10 galleons, before one of the Aurors would lead him up to the permanent residents cell block. Eric watched as a woman named Travers created a patronus mist and they began climbing the stairs. As they pushed through the twisting corridors and stairways that formed the fortress Eric was reminded of the crystal palace in Belfast by the way the dementors would crowd close as they passed reaching out their scabrous hands like Meth heads begging for a quick fix.

Reaching the top of the tower the woman pointed to the cell holding the black head and left, taking her meager protection with her.

Walking up to the cell in question Eric looked through the bars. They were locked and the cell shadowed but Eric could see movement inside. Walking up to the door Eric kicked it and conjured a ball light. Sitting against the one wall, slowly eating a bowl of gruel with his hands was the emaciated form of the man he had seen in the mirror so long ago.

"Sirius Orion Black?" the redhead asked coldly. The man paused ever so slightly before answering.

"I suppose I am." He replied, voice raspy. His piece said the man continued eating the bowl of pottage.

Eric stood there and stared at him for a long time, just looking at the wreck of a man. As he stood there a chill began to creep into the room and the figure sighed. "Damn dementor again." He grunted. The man looked up as black flames began creeping over Eric's limbs and gave him a curious look.

"Give me a minute," Eric grunted, massaging his temples and trying to block the creature out "Don't go anywhere." The man gave a barking laugh and Eric turned around to see a hooded specter floating down the hall toward him, breathing in great rattling breaths like wind in the reeds. Eric let his shields slip for a moment and shuddered as the memories of his mothers death washed over his mind, bringing the sinister flames into full bloom. With a roar of fury Eric let the ebon energy flow into the stone floor and his feet and transfigured it, launching the mass towards the shade. It looked at him curiously as the attack barreled towards it but whatever it might have been thinking stopped short as the fiery rock touched it.

The creature screamed as it sailed back against the far wall, the stone flowing around the creature's torso and binding it to the stone, the black flames lapping their way down the robes and across the creatures body. It was a horrible sound, like nails on a chalkboard or the screeching howls of the tortured. As Eric's attack guttered out, the wraith crumpled limp against the mortar, taking the sound and memories with it into blessed silence. Satisfied and feeling slightly vindicated Eric returned to the cell door to find the man still sitting there, licking out his bowl. "Neat trick there, with the rocks." The scruffy stick figure said. "I didn't think anything save the patronus charm could give them pause."

"Neither did I" Eric replied. "I looked them up but the only clues you wizards have are they can't pass though solid objects and they don't like holy spells." He gave the man a hard look before continuing. "Or unholy ones either it seems. The Black Fire didn't work 'cept to hurt it but I was just trying to transfigure the stone into a binding."

"Clever" the elder Black Barked. "So, what do you want? You don't seem to be gloating and, while cold, you haven't been openly antagonistic to me either, so that begs the question what anyone is doing with an old washed out convict, let alone a child."

"James and Lilly Potter," Eric replied "I want to know why. By all reports they were your best friends, even that fanboy Peter what's-his-face. Ten years of friendship that was by all accounts the stuff most people only wish they had, why sell them out?"

"Would you even listen?" the near corpse shot back. "No one else did, people took what they saw and in their hysteria threw me in here…"

"Without a trial" Eric finished for him. "Yes, I know. I've done my homework on you old man."

"Now _that _begs to question." Sirius replied. "Why would you care enough to do that? What's in it for you? How would you even know to ask?" he queried cynically.

"A number of reason, most of them personal" Eric answered. "Not the least of which is because my best friend is Harry Potter."

That statement caught the man's attention. "Really now," the greasy haired man said leaning forward and actually meeting Eric's eye. "That's interesting." He muttered rapturously "And how is my godson doing these days? Well I trust?"

"He's doing better," Eric replied, voice frigid "no thanks to you or either of your masters, Black. Now explain."

"I didn't betray Lilly and James." The emaciated figure said wearily, "Not directly at least, though I may as well have cast the spell myself considering what I did do." He looked at Eric's blank face and sighed. "I suppose it can't hurt to tell the story again, I've got nothing but time after all."

Eric sat and gave the man a pointed look. "Alright then," Sirius began. "The first thing you have to understand is that Remus Lupin is a werewolf." The elder Black explained. "We didn't know it when the three of us, me, James and that hanger on Peter Petigrew befriended him but we figured it out pretty quickly. It wasn't hard; growing up purebloods you hear all the stories and the signs were pretty clear. By the time we figured it out though we'd already become fast friends. We confronted him about it and he confessed and told us about when and how he was bitten. Most people would have run away, shunned him or even seen to it that his stay at Hogwarts was ruined or even ended. Not us." Sirius laughed as he reminisced about old times. "James and me were all about breaking the rules and having fun and what would be a greater insult to the establishment than staying friends with a werewolf? Well, we found a way, we became animagi."

"This is heartwarming old man, really, but there is a point to this I trust? Unless you give me something that says you're innocent and I can dig out of the boneyard you're dementor chow as far as I'm concerned."

Sirius gave him a disgusted look. "I'm innocent boy, though the knowledge give me no joy. The animagus part is important though, you came to listen so shut up and do so." The man snarled. "Now, where was I. Right, In our third year. My form was a Barghest, a giant black dog the size of a bear. Lots of ghost stories about them like the churchyard grim but really they're just big dogs with magically extended brains, healing and lifespans. Most of their hype came during the dark ages where they'd get caught by Muggles eating the corpses of the dead, usually plague victims. Got me the name Padfoot; peter wanted to name me corpse breath, but it was 3 to 1 against thank merlin. James took the name Prongs on account of him turning into a forest lord, a giant white stag with between a few dozen and hundred pronged antlers. Supposedly they got powerful nature sorcery but James never learned how to use it or even if it really existed. And finally, Peter, dear bloody _fucking __**Peter…**_" the man snarled menacingly. "Peter Pettigrew turned into a chupacabra, a large vampiric _rat_ about the size of a wharf rat. They feed on livestock mostly, but they're believed to be the source of Central American vampirism and their blood can be exchanged for most breeds of vampire blood in rituals and potions that call for that kind of thing."

Sirius noted the look of interest and impatience on his audiences face and grimaced. "Now that you've got the backstory we can get to the meat of this whole clusterfuck. In 1980 Sybille Trelawney came to Albus Dumbledore to apply for the recently vacated posting of Divination teacher. Not a bad study divination, Magical art of finding out what other people don't want you to know; only Trelawney was a well-known hack. Whatever the woman might know about the teachable aspects of divination were buried under her obsessive desire to be a seer. Funny thing was she turned out, in that very interview no less, to be a prophetess."

"Forgive me, you're finally getting around to what I want to hear, but I've got to ask, what's the difference between a seer and a prophet?" Eric interrupted.

The silver eyed man raised a brow. "Not much, but at the same time, everything. A seer sees everything that may be depending on any number of factors and, while fallible, usually know what series of events is most likely. They tend to be odd balls with only a loose grasp on the reality of things around them and make up the bulk of reliable fortune tellers. Prophets on the other hand walk in and out of key points in history of every nation offering true and immutable tales of future changes, good or bad, and haven't the slightest shred of control or timing over their powers. On top of that they're usually vague enough that few can comprehend what they're saying until the event has already come to pass. Prophesies that are ignored happen because nobody stopped them, Prophecies that are acted on or fought happen because the person who heard them acted. In the end, they happen and it's rarely pretty. Sybille told Dumbledore that a child would be born at the end of august to parents who had beaten Voldemort three times and that he would be marked as the dark lord's equal. She further went on to explain that the two of them would be fated to kill each other and no one else would be able to succeed."

Sirius snorted and cleared his dry throat. Eric, taking pity on him, formed a ball of water and floated it over to him. The prisoner gave him and strange look before gratefully sucking it down. "Thanks. The thing you have to understand about the war was up until that point we were losing, and badly. I don't really know how to put it in words so you can understand just how bad it was but people were dying left and right. Anyone who stood up to him effectively signed their own death warrants. Dumbledore tried to organize and protect us so we could oppose him properly but the ministry was floundering and very few of us were really trained for combat, let-alone war. Voldemort was poised on the brink of toppling magical Brittan and becoming king publically when the prophesy came out. It seemed like a godsend to us, but there were just two enormous gaping problems. First, Severus Snape, an old rival of ours, was also at that interview and heard half of the prophesy before he was kicked out of the pub by Aberforth, Dumbledores twin brother; and second the statements made in the prophesy pointed to two possible children. Harry Potter, and Neville Longbottom."

Sirius grimaced before continuing. "Here's where we get to my betrayal and the truth of the whole Potter situation. Lilly and James were fairly high on Voldemorts list of people to kill and the prophesy just made things worse, so to protect themselves they set up a ritual based ward called the Fidelius charm to protect themselves. This charm can hide anything no matter now great or widely known from the minds and perceptions of the entire world but hinges on caster putting their trust in someone who isn't going to be under the charms protection, a secret keeper. The secret keeper is the charms one weakness and the reason it's so powerful because without the secret keeper the protection is impenetrable, even to Voldemort. We had originally planned for that keeper to be me, but I thought that was too obvious. I was their best and most trusted friend, of course it would be me, and everyone would think so and because of that target me to find the Potters. Instead I suggested that we use Peter in my stead, that way nobody would think to look in the place where the true vulnerability lay. Unfortunately with that argument I handed my best friends over to Voldemort on a silver platter. Peter didn't even last two years before walking into the dark lords office and offering him the Potters for amnesty."

Sirius shook his head, tears falling heavily from his eyes despite his steady raspy voice. "I tried to find the rat bastard when I found out, thought I might at least give him a proper burial, but then I found that he was alive, healthy and completely untortured. He ran and I chased him out into the street. He started screaming my betrayal to the whole world, blasted the street wide open, cut off a finger and vanished into the sewer like the rat he was. Worst bloody day of my life. You know the rest." The man said, emotionally drained.

Eric was silent for a long time, thinking over everything the man had told him. "Petigrews form, you said he'd be a big rat, I assume he'd lose a claw for cutting off that finger?"

"A whole toe, probably," the dirty man replied offhandedly "Animagus forms tend to be very reflective of the person who transforms. I imagine I'd be all shaggy and gaunt if I did so now." He explained.

"Right, and he'd be able to live a human lifespan while transformed, would he? Light brown coat? Dark blue eyes instead of strait black?"

Sirius moved quick as a flash, a manic gleam in his eye as he pressed against the bars. "You've seen him!" the man hissed. "WHERE!? YOU MUST TELL ME!" he howled, shaking the bars violently.

"Don't worry, father." Eric said smoothly, standing up. "Just sit tight and I'll take care of it."

Black froze, staring at him in comprehendingly. "F-father? What? Wait!"

Eric left the man there, screaming questions at him as he disappeared down the hallway.

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Eric didn't even bother returning to the wardens on his way out of the prison. He heard screaming behind the man's door as he passed but judging from the general atmosphere of the place he figured it would easily be a new prisoner the man was bating before tossing them into a cell for the dementors to feed on. One thing he did notice thought as he shot into the sky was how his exit was completely unimpeded by the shadowy fiends which had crowded the halls like beggars in a subway on his way in to see his father. They still infested the keep and the skies outside but instead of eagerly approaching him in hopes of a quick fix they shied away as if he bore the plague.

He laughed as he soared straight up, clearing the field of mist and low hanging storms that shrouded the prison, rising high enough to get a birds eye map of where exactly the prison was so he wouldn't have to go through the same charade next time he wanted to visit. Satisfied of the name of the town he'd sailed from and the bird's eye map he'd drawn in his head he saluted Glasgow and shot off south and west. Eric was headed for Devon; it was time he bought a rat.

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A few hours earlier,

Andromeda Tonks nee Black was a healer at St. Mungos hospital for magical maladies and injuries. A shrewd former Slytherin, she was legendary at the hospital for being able to ferret out the what, why and how of any injury regardless of the patients attempts to obfuscate the source of their latest stupidity. Her sharp intelligence and no nonsense attitude aside, Andromeda was a kind, pleasant woman who generally cared for everyone around her and took a healthy sense of accomplishment home with her after each day of sorting out her fellow wizards. So when her daughter called her and asked her to come home early for dinner, but refused to tell her why, she quickly became concerned.

The fact that little Nymphadora didn't squawk and protest at the use of her full name only made her move faster.

Andromeda grimaced briefly upon arrival, seeing that her daughter had brought home Chinese takeout rather than having their elf, hapi, prepare something but didn't comment. They ate quickly and Dora explained what was going on. The elder woman's mind whirled at the implications of what she'd just been told. Everyone knew her cousin had been a successful and unapologetic womanizer but up to this point there had never been any hints that those liaisons had born anything more than his growing reputation and ego. That she not only had a potential nephew out there but he was going to Azkaban on 'family business' was mind blowing.

"Wait, you said he was walking around your department looking lost?" the healer asked.

"Well, yeah, he was looking for a way into Azkaban and from the looks of it had never been to the Auror office before." Dora answered, her hair turning long and green.

"No hint of the boys' mother anywhere?" she pressed.

"Not that I could see, no. why do you ask?" the metamorph said confused.

Andromeda threw down her food and rushed for the flu. "Because that means a little boy is about to walk straight into a den of monsters!" she shouted as she grabbed a handful of the sparkling green and silver powder. "Ministry of magic, department of corrections!" she shouted and vanished. The younger woman paled at the implications of that statement and quickly followed her mother thought the fire.

After confirming Eric had already been passed through to the prison the two women apparated to the docks at Dunbar and sent a patronus messenger to the ferryman. When they arrived at the wardens office Andromeda quickly asked if a boy had just been there.

"About yay tall, red hair and silver eyes? Yeah, we sent him up to see Black an hour ago, should still be there." Marius Tal replied, unconcerned.

"Could you spare a warden to lead us up there?" Andromeda asked through gritted teeth.

"Sure, take Travers, she's the one that escorted the boy up." He said, waving his hand negligently.

Andromeda froze. "You left him up there alone?!" she shrieked. "He's a little boy in a prison full of psychotic criminals and soul sucking monsters and you left him alone!? You fucking idiot, do you have any idea what you've done? If that boy's been kissed I'll see you locked up on one of these cells for the next century! And that Travers bitch too, for that matter!"

"Now wait just a minute…" the man tried to counter, glowering at the screaming woman in front of him.

"I think not," she snarled, not even bothering to lower the volume "enough minutes have been wasted already! You're going to lead me up there and you better pray that little boy's still got his soul when we get there!"

As they left the office and made for the stairs none of them noticed a short figure with long blood red hair closing the door to the harbor behind him.

Nymphadora and Andromeda charged forward, Patronus owl and weasel leading the way as they dragged Warden Tal along with them, periodically asking which way to turn. As they arrived as the branching corridors of the permanent residents cellblock the released the warden and rushed towards the sounds of screaming, fearing the worst.

What they found was a little different than they'd expected.

Sirius Black was at the bars, crying and screaming incoherent questions down the hall as he shook the Iron door of his cage. When he saw them he straightened up, a manic look in his eyes. "Andi! Thank merlin you're here! Did you see a boy, looked like me but short with red hair?" the man asked desperately, voice ragged.

"No," she replied shaking her head, pushing aside her disgust at the man before her "that's who we came looking for. The dementors didn't get him did they?"

"What? No, he did something to one of them and hey scattered like flies, you can probably see it down the hall. But that's not important; god Andi, we have so much to talk about..."

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It took Eric a full day to find the Weasleys. Flying from Glasgow to southern Devon was no simple task and having only a vague idea of the geography of his destination made finding the Weasley family a slow and relatively painful process. Eventually he found his way to the river otter by questioning the locals and made his way up to the sleepy little farming town of St Catchpole. The weather was nice and Eric found the Burrow shortly after lunch.

It was by far the oddest looking house Eric had ever seen, built like the pictures of the ramshackle slum apartments of New Guinea, the tower could easily have been built by some giant toddler stacking blocks one on top of the other and from the lack of support structures the dark redhead was certain the place was being held up by magic rather than material. Seeing a trio of flaming redhead in the backyard throwing things Eric swooped in for a landing.

"Well now, what"

"do we have here?"

"A friend? A visitor,"

"who doesn't call"

"or write? One"

"might think you"

"didn't like us"

"anymore Eric."

Ron and Eric looked at the twins for a moment. "Why do you two have to be so weird?" Ron asks before turning to walk away while Eric stares after him grimacing.

"Don't worry about him too much mate." George says, grabbing Eric's shoulder.

"He'll come around eventually" agreed Fred. "He's just jealous."

George nodded sagely. "He thinks you stole his chance to stand out from the rest of us when he and Harry split over Hermione."

Eric hummed noncommittally. "Did he manage to make any friends afterwards? I know with his general attitude Harry was all he'd managed when I finally threw him out of class, never bothered to care after that."

Fred shrugged. "Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan from what I've been able to see. Though they're less friends than simply friendly."

"We're still kind of mad at you for that by the way," George spoke up. "I mean, the stupid burke deserved some of it, but he's still our kid brother."

"SO!" Fred spoke loudly, immediately changing the subject, "it's not that we don't want you here,"

"but why **are** you here, teach?" George grinned.

Eric looked at the two of them and grimaced. "This is going to sound a little weird," he said glancing back at the house where Ron was opening the door to go inside "But I need Ron's rat Scabbers." He took out his pouch and pulled out a piece of paper and 29 galleons. "I was going to buy the little monster from him but given how he still hates me I have a feeling that's going to be difficult."

"Yeah," the twins nod, "probably. Why do you want the rat? It's just a fat old garden rat aint it?"

"No garden rat lives 13 years and is still healthy." Eric said looking at them. "There are other markers as well, the spines on the bottom of its feet, dark blue eyes and instead of black or red, the sharp pointy teeth, how it's as big as a wharf rat… It's a Chupacabra and I'm willing to pay for it." He explained, holding up the cash.

The pair of them looked at the gold longingly but nodded. "Never thought scabbers would be useful like that." George groaned.

"Kind of makes you wish we'd taken him off Percy when he got that owl last summer, don't it, o brother mine?" Fred frowned sadly.

They started walking towards the house and Eric changed the subject. "So, you guys got any relatives? You only ever mentioned Bill and Charlie at school."

"Yeah," one of the twins replied over his shoulder, "Dads got six brothers, but most of them are dead from the last war so we don't talk about them much."

"Mum had two older brothers as well," said the other "Gideon and Fabian Prewett. Think we've got a second cousin as well, but mum refuses to talk about him."

"Dad said he was a muggle accountant once, but mum shut him up but good. Cooking was horrible all week."

Eric nodded, taking that all in as they passed through the door. "Nice kitchen." He remarked, looking around at the ordered chaos of pots and pans.

"That's very kind dear," came a voice from the doorway to another room. It was a large woman with very frizzy red hair and rosy cheeks. She was wearing worn tattered brown robes and a shawl, no hat though. "I suppose you're Eric?" She asked, voice sweet, but lips pursed.

"Yes, ma'am. I get the impression you've not heard much complimentary about me." The small boy said, dipping his head briefly.

Mrs. Weasley frowned. "Not from Ronald, but the letters from the twins were glowing. You will forgive me if I didn't find that entirely reassuring."

Fred and George looked at each other in mock outrage. "Dear woman, you wound us! What have we ever done to deserve such lack of confidence?"

Mrs. Weasleys smile became genuine for a second as she looked down on her two boys before a gentle smirk replaced the expression. "Would you prefer the list in alphabetical order or chronological?"

Fred blew a raspberry "Come on dear brother mine, I can see when we're not wanted."

"Our rooms on the fifth floor when you're done with iccle wanwan." George said to Eric as the pair of them bounded off. "We've got some stuff that'll blow your mind."

Eric nodded and made to follow them up the stairs but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He suppressed a growl, he was in someone else's home after all, and not as a thief this time either, best to be polite. "Mrs. Weasley?"

"Mr. Stark I'll be very frank with you, I don't like you and if it weren't for Fred and George I'd use the wards to banish you. My children are deeply important to me and you've made one of my youngest son's life hell for the last nine months. If your business with Ronald hurts him in any way you had best pray whatever dark sorceries you are teaching my boys will protect you." The woman's face was flat and her hair somehow more wild that before. Eric noted the fire in her eyes and the sparks leaking from her wand and nodded in respect.

"There's nothing dark about what I've been teaching my classes, Mrs. Weasley." Eric returned calmly "it's really the purest form of magic there is. You probably did it yourself when you were a kid, before meeting Mr. Ollivander about your wand. I just show them how to do it intentionally." Eric heaved a sigh; he'd been doing that an awful lot since joining the wizarding world it seemed. "As for your youngest, he made a point early on to insult me, belittle my friends and try to drive a wedge between me and everyone I'd ever more than glanced at. I didn't set out to hurt him, but I won't apologize for how things went down."

The woman took that in with only the slightest softening in her gaze. "Ronald always has been a little insensitive" She allowed. It wasn't much but unless he wanted a full on battle he'd take what he could get. "And your business with him today?"

"He has possession of a particular magical pet I'd very much like to acquire and have come to buy it from him. I imagine he'd be pleased to have the money for a proper wand and things for school." The woman looked at him confused for a moment before nodding and stepping out of his way.

"Ron's room is at the top of the stairs, just below the attic. Be polite." With that he was dismissed as the woman began to bustle around, pulling a variety of foodstuffs and crockery out for use. Eric started up the steps and took off once he was out of sight.

It took him a few seconds to drift up the winding disjointed tower but soon the silver eyed boy was knocking on an orange door. It was opened briefly to reveal a brilliant orange furnace before the slightly taller carrot top slammed it in his face. Eric knocked again and waited for several minutes. After another attempt he rolled his eyes and called on his power. Shaping the plum flames to his intent he projected his image into the boys room.

_You're not going to get away from me that easily Ronald._ Eric projected his mental voice and matched with motion from his projection. There was the sound of footsteps and a crash on the far wall. Eric winced; obviously the pratt thought he was actually in the room with him. Eric sighed. It was a real pity his search in the Hogwarts library for real divination had thus far been a failure, this would be so much easier if he could see and hear what was going on in there.

…then again; the book Penny had shown him on Legillimancy near the end of the year had detailed how wizards used the spell to imitate his art in a forceful manner, that instead of organizing a mind they entered into concepts they took hold of the thoughts and memories and sorted thought them raw. To the untrained it felt as if they were reminiscing about things unrelated to their personal line of thought, to the trained it was like being raped. Pretty easy to see why it was looked down upon. The concept did however afford him a unique opportunity, using legillimancy rather than his own approach to mind magic, he could potentially look through someone else's eyes, in this case Ronald Weasley.

_I'm not here to hurt of make fun of you Ronald_ he sent again, this time trying to strip his probe of his normal preconceptions and simply watch the flow of the boys mind as vision became thought and then memory. _I just want to talk for a bit. Some quick business and I'll be out of your hair. _

"And I'm supposed to trust you?" came through the door. Eric shrugged; it was a start at least.

"Not in the least." He returned simply. "I know that'd be too much to ask given our history. That doesn't make it any less true."

The orange door opened a crack and Ron's eye poked out of the gap. "What do you want?" he spat. Eric held out a golden coin and the boy's hand flashed out like a cobra to grab it. "Cor…" Ron said as he held the Galleon up to the light. Eric grinned; the door was open now, in more ways than one.

"Mind if I come in?" Eric asked, fighting to keep the smugness out of his voice. The other redhead glared at him, but nodded. The darker boy pulled out a small leather bag and began tossing it up and down, watching as the lighter boys eyes followed its movement and twitched as it clinked with gold each time he caught it. "I'd like to buy scabbers." He told the blue eyed menace simply, snatching the coin purse out of the air with a snap. "And I'm quite willing to pay for his sentimental value." He said, slowly and methodically tossing coins onto the boys bed as he spoke. "Hogwarts allows students to bring any pet they want after first year so long as it's presence won't harm your fellow students." He said, speaking softly and trying not to antagonize the boy. If he wanted that Rat he'd have to play this much more carefully than usual. He wasn't particularly concerned about dealing with Ron, or even Mrs. Wesley down stairs, but if his father was telling the truth he didn't want the traitor suspecting anything until it could be secured. "You could also buy yourself a new wand, one that's properly suited to you and will actually respond to your magic." He said as he got to the19th coin. "And shiny new school supplies or robes and what not."

The boy looked between him and the gold shrewdly. "If you wand Scabbers so bad that you'd sink this low, he must be pretty valuable." He said, taking the sleeping rodent from a hidden burrow on a shelf and holding it close. "Why shouldn't I ask for more?" he said, stroking the thing. "Payback for all the shit you pulled last year."

Eric levitated the gold back into the bag in stream of coins. "I guess if you don't want the gold…" he said, walking towards the door.

"NO!" Ron lurched forward suddenly and Eric stopped, halfway through opening the door to leave. "Fine, you can have the rat, just give me the bag, alright?" he said, holding out both hands separately, one empty and one holding a now very awake rat. Eric tossed him the bag of jingling coins and summoned the Rat as it fell from the boys grip.

"A pleasure doing business with you" He said abruptly leaving, the oversized vermin clutched in a vice like telekinetic grip. Reaching the next landing he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the creature. "Ostendo sum Verto" he encanted off the torn page of Blaise's animagus transfiguration manual, moving his wand in the specified pattern and jabbing it at the rat. It glowed red instead of blue, signifying he was at least partially correct in his assumptions and hadn't just wasted 29 galleons. Scanning further down the page and ignoring the now screaming rat, Eric began waving his wand again. "Solvo mutatio" He said in clipped Latin. There was a blue-white flash and the animal before him started writing like it was being tortured before expanding and melting, its form changing shape and color rapidly into that of a corpulent man with thick greasy brown hair, a pinched face and prominent front teeth.

"Hello, Peter." Eric said, gaze turning dark as the rat-like man flinched at his name.

"W-who are you?" the man asked, still floating in midair.

"Your worst nightmare," The boy hissed "the caring son of a man you betrayed." Eric tried to clamp down on his emotions as Black Fire began to flow across his head and shoulders. "Return to being a rat, I don't want to see your face." The man was whimpering something about Lilly and James so he probably hadn't figured it out but the man complied with the order anyways. When he was done Eric gathered the dirt from the floor of the landing he was standing on and transfigured it into a thin metal wire which he began wrapping the rodent in like the netting on a Christmas tree.

"This is a thin durable material the muggles call razor wire." He explained to the Rat as he continued to wrap and tie knots around the creatures' torso and limbs. "It's strong enough that as single strand of it could hold a person suspended without breaking and thin enough that trying to hold onto it will easily cut the flesh. So long as you remain a rat and don't struggle you'll be fine," Eric said with a nasty grin "but if you try transforming it will cut you up like a Christmas turkey. And no, you won't be able to transform it with you, the reason I'm not using my magic to truss you up is because I made it out of pig iron, one of the most nonconductive metals known to magic." Eric was exaggeration on some of that, but Pettigrew didn't need to know that…

His job accomplished he stuffed the Rat in his coat pocket and headed for Fred and Georges room, not even noticing the door off to the side close quietly.

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Eric stayed to talk to Fred and George only a few minutes before leaving. They were apparently trying to collect and catalogue their list of pranking materials into a catalogue of saleable products for their dream of opening a joke shop after school and wanted to see if he had any ideas they might look into. He left them with his original first edition of the Dungeon Masters guide. It would be interesting to see what they made of it.

As soon as he was out the door Eric lifted off, throwing a salute to an open mouthed Molly and Arthur Weasley before shooting off into the sky. Eric apparated to London as soon as he was a good distance away from the Weasley's house and wards; he wasn't sure what all they had, but If Molly thought she could threaten him with them he didn't want to be anywhere near them when he was trying to pull his body through a miniature wormhole.

Arriving in the ministry atrium with a small whump of displaced air Eric joined the flow of people in and out of the ministry. Heading to the second level he walked into the Aurors headquarters. After questioning a few passing employees Eric found himself in front of Rufus Scrimgeour office. He caught the man as he was coming back from a late lunch. When Eric asked if he could meet with the man privately Mr. Scrimgeour gave him an odd look before replying "You can explain while I eat," he said, holding up a bag of Chinese takeout "and it better be good or I'll bury you in red tape so deep you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can walk around without a security escort."

Eric followed the grim faced man in and closed the door. "Mr. Scrimgeour, what do you know about the Black/Pettigrew case from the end of the last war?"

"Just the basics, Black betrayed the Potters to the dark lord, Pettigrew confronted him about it and Black blew him and a street full of muggles to mush with an overcharged blasting curse." The older man replied around mouthfuls of beef and broccoli. "I assume you have a point and aren't just wasting my time and patience bringing up dead cases?"

"What if I were to tell you that Peter Pettigrew was not only alive, but an unregistered animagus to boot?" Eric countered.

"I would tell you to get out of my office and stop bothering me or demand to see your proof." The head Auror replied, taking another bite from the box.

Eric pulled the rat out of his coat pocket and levitated it in front of the desk. Carefully unwrapping the wire that held the creature bound Eric asked. "I assume you know the animagus revealing spell?" the redhead asked, a quartet of small white things appearing in his palm before being stuffed into a pocket.

Rufus nodded, suddenly sitting up and staring at the rat intently. "How are you doing that?" Scrimgeour asked as Eric finished unstringing Peter.

"Wandless magic, when I'm running heavy on emotions things I want to happen, do" Eric lied glibly. "Right now I want peter to be visible and restrained, thus the floating."

"Right. You know you could just take this to the animagus registry on the other side of the building, right?" Scrimgeour asked, silently casting the animagus revealing charm on the struggling rodent.

"And deprive you of the ability to stage the arrest and take credit for it?" Eric shook his head. "I want my father out of prison by the end of the summer Mr. Scrimgeour, this bastard escaping is not part of that plan."

"Your father?" Rufus asked, casting the animagus reversal charm on the squealing creature. They both watched intently as Peter Pettigrew, still looking very much like his animagus form, grew out of the floating animal, his lower arms and legs oddly limp. It took only a few moments looking back and forth between them for the man to figure it out. "You're Sirius Blacks kid." He said accusingly.

"Guilty as charged." Eric said bowing slightly. "I went to see him soon as I found out. Figured I'd ask him why he destroyed my best friend's life so I could hate him in peace, confident I was nothing like the man. Then he told me a story that made far too much sense and offered me an avenue of investigation. That's how I found Peter."

Rufus Scrimgeour leaned back and looked at the boy, a thoughtful expression his face. "Not bad, assuming this checks out I might even call you a shoe in for a Auror training." The dirty blond leaned forward and tapped his wand to his temple and something white flew out. A minute later another Auror came into the office and Rufus handed him a piece of paper he'd taken that minute to fill out. "Max, take this to requisitions, I want a small vial of veritaserum. Tell them I need it yesterday." The man nodded and hustled off.

"Veritaserum?" Eric asked.

"A truth potion, one of our strongest." The head of the Aurors explained. "The American's made a better one a few decades ago but getting stock from the colonial's is like pulling teeth and the company that sells it enchants their vials so that it can't be examined and copied."

Eric nodded at this and fell silent. "Why isn't he saying anything?" Eric looked up startled to see Scrimgeour frowning at Eric's prisoner. "I knew this lump back in school and he never rightly shut up, always whining or mewling after that bully James Potter like some sick fan-boy."

"Oh," Eric replied, pausing for a second and looking at Pettigrew. "I suppose I should ease up on him, he's probably having trouble breathing too." At a look from Rufus Eric explained, "He's being held up by my magic pressing against him. He's probably too constricted to talk, aside from that, I don't particularly want to listen to him, so my magic's likely responding to that."

The auror nodded at that. "You must be a very powerful young man to do all that, especially for as long as we've been sitting here." He said, trying to sound offhand.

"Thanks." Eric replied brightly. It was a trick he'd used often enough to get people to say more than they should, he would be damned if he fell for it without reason.

The man frowned at him again but let it drop. Max returned shortly with another pair of Aurors, wands in hand and stood along the wall. Witnesses to an interrogation Eric guessed. As the three drips slid down Wormtails throat his eyes grew glassy and Eric released him.

"What is your name?" Rufus Scrimgeour asked, taking charge of the interrogation.

"Peter Nickolas Pettigrew."

"When were you born?"

"March 16th 1960."

"Were you friends with James Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin?"

"They were my protectors."

There was a round of glances between the auror's and Eric wondered what they were all thinking before the questions continued.

"Was Sirius Black the Potters secret keeper?" Rufus continued, acting on the information Eric had provided.

"Yes, when the spell was first cast."

The auror's nodded and Rufus gave Eric a pointed look. "Were you the Potters secret keeper in the year preceding their death?" Eric spoke up loudly.

"Yes." There was a ripple of shock among the three standing by the wall and a tightening of the head auror's eyes.

"I will be doing the questioning Mr. Stark." he said tightly. "When did the Potters change the secret keeper from Black to you?"

"A week after Lilly cast the spell."

"Why?"

"So Sirius would remain a target while the keeper stayed safe."

"Did you betray the Potters to the dark lord?"

"Yes."

"Did Sirius Black kill the muggles on the street the day you disappeared?"

"No."

"Who did?"

"I cast a reductor on the street."

"How did you escape? We only found your finger."

Peter looked as if he was struggling for a moment, his face contorting and he spoke haltingly "I cut it off when I framed Sirius Black for my death. I escaped into the sewers."

"I think we're done here." Scrimgeour said. "The potions wearing off and we've got everything we need." He turned to Eric. "Thank you for letting us keep this quiet Mr. Black, you'll have your father back in time to go shopping for school supplies."

"Thank you Mr. Scrimgeour, if there's anything you need to speed the investigation along, just send me an owl."

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	9. Chapter 9

Back in Black Chapter 9

Harry Potter stepped off the plane in Dusseldorf international airport with a smile on his face. Hermione had spent the entire flight coaching him off a German phrase book and Harry had found much to his surprise that he was actually doing well at it. Usually he had to do things to learn things properly, but Languages, or at least German, seemed a breeze. He wondered briefly if it was the difference between Hermione teaching him and the other teachers. Eric certainly wasn't this easy to learn from… He'd ponder that later, Hermione was dragging him over to a food stand and chattering a mile a minute.

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Sirius Black Exonerated!

_Sirius Black, notorious death eater and traitor of the Potters has been a household name for 11 years now, reviled by all, but what if the truth we all thought we knew… was wrong? Last week the ministry was in an uproar as the department of magical law enforcement, in a startling and unprecedented move, swarmed an apartment building in Devon to find none other than Peter Pettigrew alive and well. For readers who do not remember it was the testimony and death of the same Peter Pettigrew which convicted Black in the first place 11 years ago. After being interrogated by the Aurors…_

Eric put down the paper and frowned, taking a sip of tea before nodding at Tom. History of Sirius Black page 4, experts discuss the events surrounding the potters deaths pages 6 through 9, Rumor of a son page 11. That last one had not been part of the plan; he wasn't supposed to be revealed until after the trial. He checked the author of the article, Rita Skeeter.

Media trolls… according to boss Taggart there were only two ways to fight them, buy their publication or avoid them in a way they couldn't follow. He couldn't buy the Daily Prophet, but he could certainly avoid her, after all, how many 11 cum 12 year olds could turn invisible, fly or teleport? Best way to get away from the wizarding world was visit the civilian one and what better place to start than to go back to the beginning? After all, now that he had money it seemed a good time to settle some old debts. Putting up a notice me not field Eric disappeared with a pop.

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The Granger's first stop had been a cathedral in Cologne Germany. Harry wandered around the cavernous stone building and couldn't help but be impressed. Even after having lived in an enchanted castle with animated artwork he still found himself marveling at the skill and beauty of the stained glass, mosaic and frieze that dominated the massive structure. As he listened to Hermione gob on about the history of the place and the artist whose work he was admiring Harry idly wondered if Hogwarts would allow him to add a few of these pieces to its structure. It was hardly as if the castle really used all the space it had, surely it wouldn't mind him trying to make it look more inviting?

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Maria Evelyn Stark 1958 to 1985 5'7" Auburn (dark bloody red) hair, pale skin, Brown eyes. When Maria met first met Sirius she was a med student at Queens University of Belfast Medical Sciences. 22 years old and brilliant Maria was working on her second doctorate in medicine with a thesis on immunology and it's relation to patient genetics. She and several 'girl friends' had taken the night off at a local pub to unwind when they met a man spinning wild yarns about magical adventures and fights with dragons and evil overlords who had a fondness for snakes. There was an air of levity around the man and he'd had most of the pub alternately roaring in laughter or clutching their brews at the edge of tears. He was well dressed, well groomed, had a brilliant smile, a badboy attitude and was handing out drinks like they were going out of style.

She and her friends sat there for an hour listening to him tell his stories when the barkeep came over to her with one of her favorites. As she hadn't been to that particular pub very often so she was confused at first, until the man telling the stories had caught her eye and raised his glass to her, looking directly into her eyes. The left the pub together four hours later, hanging off each other's arms, still howling drinking songs. Their nights activities were such best left to private company and when she woke the next morning he was in her small kitchenette wearing nothing but an apron and cooking a large English breakfast.

They had sex several times more that Saturday before he left. Though they parted on good terms, she never saw him again, only holding with her the memories of that day and the name Sirius Orion Black.

When she had popped positive on her pregnancy test three months later her friends had urged her to abort or, failing that, give the child up for adoption. She was going into the last year of her Doctoral classes, finishing up her thesis and rumor had it she was going to be offered a position with the research staff, she didn't need to be ruining her life with a child. She had countered them, saying that if the brat was even half its father she'd be pleased to know it was hers, "And besides, this will get my mom off my back!"

Maria's mother had been less than pleased when her daughter had applied to med school at Queens. After graduating high school at 15 her mother had started pushing her to settle down and find a man to raise a family despite her age. When Maria had been accepted to Queens the office worker had refused to pay for her daughters tuition prompting the girl go to the professors and request financial aid. They had in turn entered her onto a scholarship contest where her presentation won her several grants that amounted to a full ride, estranging the two of them. Maria saw the baby as a way to mend bridges with her mother.

And it had worked.

Maria finished her doctorate shortly before Eric was born and the pair of them moved back into her mother's house. Eric was watched over by his grandmother while Maria worked at the university and paid the bills, coming home most nights to play with and mother him.

Eric grew quickly into an active and curious baby, getting into everything and driving his grandmother spare. He was walking by six months, talking in short sentences by 10 and started reading at picture books aloud at 1 year old. All feats accomplished by his parents before him, much to his grandmother's consternation. Maria pushed for him to start attending grammar school at three years old where he began devouring books the way the other children scarfed the cookies parents occasionally brought in. Maria often told her son how proud she was of him which only encouraged him to read more.

Easter 1985 everything changed.

Home for the Easter Holidays Maria and Eric were playing together on the floor when four people in black robes and hoods shadowing their faces blasted the door in, killing Eric's grandmother. Maria directed Eric to run and hide under the bed while they locked themselves in the bedroom. The men rifled through the house, ignoring anything valuable and then came upstairs shouting about 'black'. The men shouted at Maria for several minutes asking about Eric and he saw multiple flashes of light from under the bed, each accompanied by his mother screams. Then they set her on fire her on fire and left.

Scrambling out from under the bed Eric grabbed a blanket from the closet and tried to smother the flames like they had been told in school during a presentation with a fireman, but the magical flames resisted smothering and only grew larger in retaliation, consuming the blanket and setting fire to the rest of the room. Opening the door, intending to get water from the bathroom Eric found the rest of the house to be on fire as well. When flooding the bathroom and tossing small pails of water on his mother did no good, stopping the screaming, but not the fire, he ran. Out the bathroom window and into the streets Eric watched as the house burned in spite of the firemen's efforts to quench the flames. When more men, this time in red and blue robes showed up, Eric disappeared into the streets of Belfast.

Eric's next six months were hard. Wandering around the streets of a large city is no place for a lone child, despite the, relatively small, number of homeless street rats already living there. His second night on the streets he gave up trying to beg for food and raided a dumpster. Revolted by both the contents and concept he quickly and easily turned to theft. Like his parents before him, Eric picked things up quickly, observing pickpockets, purse snatchers and lock pickers he learned at the speed of experience and necessity.

Young children were almost unseen, running everywhere, getting underfoot, tugging on their parents and strangers coat tails and begging for treats so it was easy jostle by unremarked, lifting watches, wallets and keys. Eric got caught often in the first month but improved quickly. Store rooms were a good source of food as were the back doors of restaurants' who would often toss perfectly good portions of excess food if you were there to take it and refrigerator cars at the local train yard often had rusty locks or hinges. Libraries were also a good place to get away from truant officers, police and child gangs. Coupled with Eric's persistent love of books and memories of his mother's praise of his intelligence he spent quite a bit of time among the shelves, reading everything from math's, sciences and history, to far more childish pursuits of comic books and young adult fantasy, particularly the yank comic series, Marvel entertainments Invincible Ironman and the Erik Lehnsherr's X-men in Age of Apocalypse.

Eight months into life on the streets Eric was sleeping in the back alley of an industrial complex where they kept the heating/cooling units along with a number of other urchins. It was winter so the compression pumps were a popular sleeping place and the workers didn't bother them so long as they didn't damage anything. Eric had been sleeping through the afternoon snowstorm when he was pulled out of his cardboard with the other wretches by a gang of young teen thugs. They demanded tribute for protection and beat those who didn't have enough to satisfy them.

Eric didn't have enough.

Keeping oneself healthy on the streets is a difficult balance. Proper exercise isn't hard to come by, even in the winter, but to maintain a healthy diet you have to break into a wide variety of places and have plenty to steal to sell or trade for food. That was where most of Eric's money had been going. He'd seen what happened to kids who didn't get enough loot or spent it on stupid stuff and starved and he never wanted to be one of those wretches.

When the boys came around he only had a Rolex he'd been unable to hawk because it was engraved and plated in sterling silver. The boys had looked at him in disbelief and rifled his area and cloths looking for more. When he 'refused' to tell them 'where he had hidden the rest', one of them had hit him over the head and four more had started kicking him.

That's when Eric snapped.

Literally. Several of his ribs broken and fractures forming on his skull with the repeated blows Eric's subconscious had decided enough was enough. Black flames started to flow out of his body, latching onto the offending limbs and turning snow, cardboard, cloths and bodies around him to ash. Eric watched in horror as the ebon energy flowed across his skin and outward to consume the boys who had attacked him, their screams and bubbling skin, flaking away to ash, all too familiar in his memory.

Again Eric ran, ignoring the pain in his ribs he ran until he collapsed in exhaustion, the flames long gone, unconscious in front of a soup kitchen cum homeless shelter. As Eric was picked up by one of the volunteers' and carried inside his name was scrawling itself into the ledger of prospective students at Hogwarts Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Eric smiled nostalgically as he looked at the slightly ratty storefront of the kitchen. Having recently traded in half of his gold to the bank a couple of days ago and was up to 616 thousand pounds, now he was going to start giving a little back.

Eric walked into the kitchen and stood in line for a bowl of soup. There were a lot of strange stares from the people in the line at his silk pants and leather duster, as if they wanted to be mad at him for coming here but there was some niggling confusion at the back of a lot of people's heads. He was familiar to them and they were struggling to understand why. As he got up to the counter and held out his bowl with a smile the server looked at him closely, a frown marring her pretty face. "Eric?"

"How is everything Abby?" Eric smile back.

"Eric! How are you?! When you disappeared in last August we thought the worst!" She stepped away from the other side of the line, asking the now smiling selection of volunteers to step in for her and stepped around to the front.

"No, actually I got picked up by this special boarding school." Eric said conversationally as he sat down with Abby at one of the tables. Pulling a pair of filled soup bowls from behind his back and setting them down between the pair.

Abby shook her head and smiled. "I've always wondered how you do that." She said laughing.

"Magicians secret," Eric shot back, grinning "If I told you…"

"You'd have to kill me." She finished. "You and your cliché's." she laughed shaking her head. "So! I'm certainly happy to see you, but if you're going to a rich kid's school, what are you doing back here? And how exactly are you attending a school like that?"

Eric nodded. "Good questions," Stark said, taking a sip of the chicken noodle "remember how my fathers' been playing absentee dad for the last 12 years? Turns out he was one of the honored alum and they managed to track me down, offered me a scholarship and everything. Then when school ended a few weeks ago and Dad showed up." He took another long sip of the soup and looked at her.

"That's great," Abby said. A dozen or so of the regulars patted him on the back and offered their congratulations as well, though a few of them grumbled and shot him sour looks as well. "I guess though, this means you won't be coming here anymore?"

"Nominally," Eric nodded "But I also intend to make a rather generous donation to the shelter in thanks for my time here. How does a hundred grand sound?" Understandably Abby didn't take it entirely well and sat there, gaping like a fish. Everyone else was silent and someone rushed to a phone and dialed the shelter's manager. Eric ended up staying at the shelter for the next several hours, entertaining the inhabitants with an updated version of his stage show, now featuring the transported man act, fire eating and making people float or disappear.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Up until a good ten minutes ago he had been rather enjoying listening to a performance of the Frankfurt Grand Orchestra with Hermione's family. Everything had been going well and he'd finally gotten to hear Pachelbel's cannon in D that Eric had told him about rather passionately a few times they had discussed music, and then Hermione had taken hold of his arm and was leaning into him. As if that in of itself wasn't awkward enough now Dan Granger was ignoring the concert and glaring at him. Putting a finger in his collar he tugged nervously and considered just abandoning all pretenses and flying to a safer position. This was going to be a long night.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Eric sat in the back of the wizengamont with a frown on his face. The trail had gone well, all told. Both Sirius and Peter had been brought in separately and answered a number of questions under the influence of the wizarding truth drug, veritaserum. After a great deal of deliberation and several speeches they had decided to immediately have Pettigrew kissed and award Black ten million galleons in reparations for his unlawful imprisonment.

Watching the kiss, in Eric's honest opinion, was the single most horrifying and disgusting thing he had ever witnessed. The dementors were not wraiths as he had first assumed them to be, but rather rotting cadavers with melted leprous green skin that hung off their bones like some horrible feted jello. As the thing opened its mouth and clamped it over Peters own he felt as if his very magic were being somehow sullied and he shivered uncontrollably.

As the trial ended Eric mad his way down to the chair where Sirius had been seated after his questioning and helped the man up. "It's over." He said quietly to Eric "Thank Merlin it's finally over." He laughed bitterly. "I'd have far preferred to kill Peter myself though, you know?" he said looking at Eric. "Be kinder to both of us than what just happened. I don't think even he deserved that."

"Soul sucking monsters," Eric agreed, shaking his head. "Kinda makes you wonder just what kind of world this is that the government keeps things like that on hand rather than eradicating them."

"Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, the blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned; the best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity." The pair of them turned around to see Lucius Malfoy standing there, an odd not quite smile on his face. "One of the better poems by your people, Mr. Stark an may yet be appropriate to answering your question. The ministry keeps them around because in the five thousand years of their existence only one person has been known to kill a dementor and the secret died with her. Better to keep a demon under your thumb than let it run loose, and if you can control it, why not use it?"

"Then obviously your people aren't trying hard enough to kill them, Mr. Malfoy." Eric returned. "How did you like your son's progress?"

"It was fairly disappointing actually." The silver haired man replied. "I was actually quite intent on speaking with you about that, he blames you."

"Do tell? All his arguments where he refused to learn my methods were accredited to you, Lucius." Eric returned sweetly.

"Indeed." Mr. Malfoy's face turned dark at that.

"All in all though, I think he did rather well once we beat some cooperation into him." Eric continued. "Watching him lose to Hagrid in a magic only duel was quite the entertainment. He proved himself to be quite the student after that little episode, even explained to me your position on blood purity. If he keeps the attitude I left him with Draco should be throwing fireballs by Christmas and relearning his course spells wandlessly around Easter."

"Very well" Lucius murmured. "I shall leave you to it then, though I must admit to being curious about your presence here."

"That, dear cousin" Rasped Sirius "would be my fault. You see, Eric is my son." He said with a vicious grin.

Lucius blanched. "You can't be serious!"

"Oh, but I'm always Sirius, Lucius! It is my name after all."

The elder Malfoy gave him a dirty look. "Would that I never hear that stupid pun again." Lucius growled. Then he turned to Eric. "So you're a half blood then?"

"Only found out myself recently." Eric nodded. "Tried to open an account at the bank…"

"And they required a little blood." The platinum blond finished. "Good day then."

Eric and Sirius watched as the man swept off down the hall. "What was that all about?" Sirius asked.

"I found out about my magic soon after mom died and refused to leave it at just accidental." Eric said as they made their way to the lifts. "Ran a stage magic show to keep myself in food and clothing. It kind of snowballed after I got to school. I've been building up quite a following, so naturally one of them Ran afoul of Draco, the great ponce. Mr. Malfoy got involved and threatened to shut me down if I didn't add his son to my roster of students. Now, let's get you out of here."

After Reaching the Ministry atrium Eric directed them to the flu portals instead of the visitors exit and sent them to St Mungos. They had an argument in the Lobby over whether or not Sirius needed to be here but after one of the healers supported Eric that dementor trauma was a well-documented problem they managed to get him to the fourth floor to see Mind Healer Barnabus. After a lot of cajoling and many glares they had the older man set up in the long term spell damage ward with daily potions and sessions with various Mind Healers.

Eric looked over the rest of the wards inhabitants curiously as he pulled out his trunk and unshrunk it between the wall and Sirius' bed. Ward 47 had two possession cases, a long term Imperious victim and some guy muttering about dead gods who dream beneath the earth. Eric shook his head and directed Sirius to follow him into the trunk. The man raised an eyebrow at the space within, but otherwise said nothing. Entering Eric's room the small redhead took a rubber ball off the shelf and began cutting it away to reveal a Ruby.

"Sirius," Eric said, as he held the gem out to his father "can you tell me what this is?"

"Looks like a bloodstone." The black haired man said after a few minutes close inspection. "I'd have said ruby, but the textures wrong, why?"

Eric summoned a Beetles coffee mug from one of the shelves and held the stone over it, Purple fire enveloping his hand. The stone issued a stream of clear liquid into the cup until Eric stopped the power and Sirius looked a little surprised. "Geomancy. Not bad." He said a musing look on his face. "Not many people practice that any more, most think it's too limited, where'd you find a book on it?"

"Geomancy?" Eric asked, giving his father a confused and questioning look.

"Yeah, it's the practice of using different minerals to channel magic. Fell out of fashion shortly after the fall of Rome but it was dying by then anyways. Runes were easier to use and didn't have to be gathered and Rome's war with the woads had brought the use of wands and staves to Europe. Shouldn't you know this though? Didn't you just use a rock to make water?" Now Sirius was the one looking confused.

"Huh." Eric said, momentarily stumped. "I'll have to look that up in the library someday. No, this" he said placing the stone back in the broken rubber and repairing it "is the sorcerer's stone, and the liquid in the cup is the elixir of life; an all uses health potion which you are now going to drink."

Sirius looked between Eric, the cup and the ball, utterly gob-smacked. "How do you have a sorcerer's stone?" he asked, shell-shocked and stuttering.

"Not THAT is an interesting little story." Eric replied, taking a sip of the liquid and swallowing before forcing it into his father's hands. "It's also one you're going to have to wait for now because once that potion is down your gullet you're going to suffer the rather quick and undoubtedly painful reversal of a little over a decade's worth of abuse, so I suggest you drink quickly and get back to your bed. I'm not about to watch you die after putting all that effort into saving your sorry ass, dad."

Sirius frowned slightly, sniffing the liquid. "I don't have to keep drinking this to maintain the benefits do I? I read that the Flamels keep a big store room of the stuff because they have to take the elixir regularly."

Eric filed the name Flamel away before snorting in reply. "Don't be absurd, this isn't some cheesy fantasy book where the villain loses their source of power and immortality shortly before withering away to ash in moments. I had one of the healers, a guy named Erasmus, swear an oath of his life and magic to keep this quiet before letting them test some of the stuff. The elixir is like any other one shot healing potion, it'll perform its effect and then fade out of your system. Semi-permanent effects and all that, it'll give you a full work-over and fix your age to 20 or so, but after a few hours the potion fades and you start healing and ageing normally. I had to let Healer Erasmus use it on the sly a few times to get the workup on its full effects. Best I can figure if the Flamels need it that often then they're either very vain about their age or live incredibly dangerous lives."

Sirius nodded and chugged the elixir. "Bottoms up." He said grinning slightly before passing out. Eric caught him levitated the man up out of the trunk and tucked him in bed. It was time to track down a few more leads he didn't have time to deal with last time he was here. Plans within plans, maybe he should have been in Slytherin after all…

Shrugging to himself Eric walked down the hall to the Janus Thickney Ward, number 49 for permanent spell damage. There were a few people in there, none of whom he recognized so he went up to the healer in residence, a pleasantly chatty woman named Miriam Strout who pointed him to the two gaunt spacy figures at the end of the ward.

"Madam Strout, as best you can tell me, what exactly is wrong with them? Aside from the obvious psychological trauma you'd expect in a torture victim?"

The woman looked over at the pair of them sadly. "You seem like a nice boy, I really wouldn't like to bother you with such details. The cruciatus curse is forbidden for a reason after all." The woman said in a motherly tone.

Eric however wasn't to be deterred. "Please madam healer, they're parents of a dear friend of mine. Tell me. If I want to help him I'll need all the gory details."

The woman frowned deeply before setting her mouth in a firm line and setting him down on one of the beds. "The cruciatus curse" she began "is a dark curse not because of what it does, but in the details of how it's cast. Like the two other unforgivable it cannot be cast easily by anyone who is not inherently evil because it requires a deep seated desire to cause pain and anguish upon the person you are targeting. I could cast it on you now and throw my full and considerable power behind the spell and not do worse than make you itch uncontrollably. I simply don't feel that level of hate for anyone I know, least of all you. As to the details of the damage the spell causes it attacks the central nervous system slowly tearing at and shredding the nerve bundles like that muggle disease, what is it, Multiple Sclerosis I think?"

She frowned and looked back at the pair of the sadly before continuing. "A little here and there, however horrible, is recoverable. The body is amazingly resilient and Wizards far more so, but after being held under the spell for hours on end? It's a pure miracle that they're even alive, let alone able to function on this level. They haven't got much more than instincts and vague impression of their past personalities anymore, but that's just it, they should have been dead before we could get to them." She shrugged and smiled at him sadly. "Are you suitably depressed now, or would you like some of my other patient's stories?"

"No," Eric said quietly "I'm good. I do have a hypothetical for you though." The woman looked at him curiously, obviously humoring him and Eric continued. "Suppose I was able to get my hands of a couple vials of the Elixir of Life, would that be enough to bring the Longbottoms back to a treatable state?"

The woman looked at him for a long time, multiple expressions crossing her face as if she wasn't sure whether she wanted pat him on the back and call him a hopeless romantic, or rage at him for treating the situation so casually. Eventually she decided on being clinical. In a stiff professional tone of voice Miriam answered him "In short, yes, I believe it would, but there are few enough skilled alchemists in the entire world and none of them are particularly fond of sharing. The Flamels in Devon haven't left their manor since the early 1800's and Albus Dumbledore had to go to some fairly impressive lengths to get apprenticed to them. It's not likely that will ever happen in this case."

Eric nodded and left the ward, thanking the healer for her time and patience.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Harry looked up at Neuschwanstein Castle and felt a horrible creeping sense of dejavu. Hermione was at his side blathering on about the places history and the types of architectures it used but Harry mind was stuck on his recent stint of Disney movies. "Oh, Merlin" He groaned "I'm touring Cinderella's castle." Hermione and Jean Granger gave him scandalized looks and Dan broke down laughing.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Hagrid looked down at the freshly hatched ridgeback with a rosy glow in his demeanor. Beautiful, he thought. It had been nearly a month since school let out and he'd gotten everything set up just like he and Eric had planned. The forest really wasn't that hard to live in, with all those cute animals running around there was plenty to keep him fed and entertained and Freya to for that matter. Such a cute little girl; he was going to call her Norbert when he first got her egg, but Eric had insisted the little drake was a girl and that just wouldn't do. Freya was the giant's goddess of love beauty and war, and that suited the little dragon quite well he thought.

Stumping over to the edge of the rise he took the little girl in his hands and jumped into the water. He'd have to thank Eric later for teaching him magic, it would have been tough to find a place like this and building it was much easier. He'd been able to carve out a fair sized lake not a mile into the forest from his house and coaxed the rocks to form a large overhanging double cave for the fish and Dragon. He'd bought a number of different types of water plants, bugs and fish for the lake before filling it with water and multiplying his purchases a few hundred times. It had taken quite a bit of time to get it all right and he was certainly pleased with the result.

Landing with a big splash he floated there and watched as Freya darted out of his hands after a school of minnows. Smiling through the bubbles he pushed off the lake bottom and swam ashore, shaking the water out of his hair and cloths like a dog. Eric's magic was good for a lot of things but there were still some things that should be left the normal way, it was just natural like that. He sat on the shore for a while, whittling a massive guitar out of a tree he'd uprooted for Freya's home and listened to the connection between them.

He'd spent a great deal of time looking over that book the kid had given him and practicing on the ridgebacks egg, but it wasn't until after she'd hatched that he'd made any progress in his connection to her. Now though his eyesight had gotten better and he was getting much more adept at fire magic. He wondered what exactly it was that Freya was getting out of their bond. He nodded as he felt her decide she was full and walked over to the lake where she popped out of the water like one of them flying fish he'd seen off of Dover.

Freya was right, he thought, now was a perfect time for a nap.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Eric stepped out of the fireplace at Longbottom Manor to a hug by Neville himself. The boy seemed to be doing well and they chatted pleasantly about the boys Green house that his gran had recently acquiesced to building for him. The place was a small glass building on the north side of the estate with an expanded interior and runes along the edges of each pane to allow for some rudimentary weather control within the confines for various, often delicate, species of magical plants. Augusta was apparently pleased with his magic and had even given the boy praise on occasion, a statement that Eric wasn't sure whether to smile at or grimace. He shrugged it off quickly though, better that she was actually giving him more good attention than bad nowadays, he'd take what he could get with that old biddy.

Speaking of the crone… Eric matched the woman's sour look across the island in the kitchen where they were being served lunch by the house elves and ran over his plot on exactly how to carry this one out. The thing Madam Longbottom wanted most was her son. The dour old woman was quite obvious about that and deliberately oblivious to anyone else's views that ran counter to that goal. From what he'd heard around the alley she was the very model of the upper-crust English dowager and crafty enough to maintain a considerable voting bloc in the Wizengamont.

It took a little maneuvering on Eric's part, but eventually he managed to leave the boy to his plants and ventured back into the house to fond Dame Longbottom. Perhaps unfortunately thought it was she who found him wandering in the halls taking to the elves a few short minutes into his search. Imperiously the woman ordered away the elves and deemed it that he should accompany her to a study on the other side of the mansion. When they had both sat down, a large stained wood desk between then the elderly woman spoke.

"I find myself… pleased" she bit out haltingly "by the progress your influence has developed in Neville and intend for it to continue." She said after a while. "However as I am not, at this point, particularly fond of you I still find myself asking just what you're doing here. While I understand you were not raised properly by your house, Black, it is considered rather improper to drop by unannounced. Tea?"

"I was wondering if you'd caught that." Eric said, grimacing. "I myself only found out three weeks ago."

The woman nodded as a house elf bounced in with a tray of tea and condiments. "I'm well aware of that Mr. Black. I'm also aware of how you checked your father into Saint Mungo's yesterday and made a point of visiting my son while you were there. I trust you had a good reason for doing so?" That last statement held a thinly veiled sense of menace that Eric found himself shivering at subconsciously.

"Yes, actually, you see, while not exactly close, I am of course friends with your son and heard once or twice how he didn't live with his parents, so I got curious. Upon further research I found out about the attack on them and my visit yesterday was an extension of that." He explained, doing his best to make it sound innocuous.

"And I suppose then that you are aware a former member of your house was involved in the attack that left them in that condition?" she asked, lips thin above the bone china of her cup.

"That's actually what I came here to talk to you about." Eric said, turning deadly serious, an affectation that looked fairly ludicrous on his nearly twelve year old body. Reaching into his pocket he held up three glass corked beakers.

"Explain." The woman intoned darkly.

"I want Bellatrix," he said without preamble "and I'm willing to trade you three flasks of the Elixir of Life, straight from Flamel's own store room for her. I know what she and the Lestrange's did to your son and daughter in law, but the Black is mine. I'm offering you your son, his wife and your youth and beauty if you'll drop all charges against her and have her transferred to my personal custody. I couldn't care less what happens to those bastards she's married to, have them kissed, killed or left with the dementor's for the rest of their unnatural lives, for all I care, but I want Bella."

Augusta looked at him and his offering silently for a very long time, rage, greed and hope dancing in her eyes. After a while she spoke. "And what would you do if I simply took those flasks from you and left you with naught?" she asked. "After all, you wandered so willingly into my manor, under the power of my wards, what would stop me?"

"I would." He growled, arcs of power now running up and down his arms, and making his bound hair stand slightly on end.

Madam Longbottom looked him over appraisingly and nodded as if she was unconcerned by his threat. "It's a noble goal to protect one's family." She said softly. "You have a deal." Standing up from behind the desk the stern looking matron walked over to a thoroughly confused Eric and held out her hand. Eric let his power go and took the offered hand. There was a slight glow of magic and they let go. "Meet me in this study in a week and I shall have the bitch caged and ready for you." The woman said, turning her back to the redhead in dismissal.

"In a week then Dame Longbottom, please try not to damage her more than she already is." With a bow Eric restowed two of the flasks of Elixir and left.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Harry looked at the shrunken box in his hand and felt a shiver go down his spine. It was his birthday and they were in Berlin visiting the Zoo when a Flourish and Blots post owl had flown down out of the blue and handed him Eric's letter. It was cryptic and full of bad puns but the gist of it was the present contained pieces of his history and knowing his best male friends sense of humor he was worried. Trancing in he put up a notice me not spell that excluded the Grangers and unshrunk the box.

At the top of the pile was a newspaper, labeled The Daily Prophet and headlined Sirius Black Exonerated. Harry's face turned to a scowl but held his temper in check as he read the article. Seeing rumors of a son posted at the bottom the green eyed 12 year old read between the lines. Eric, being his nosey, disruptive self-had gone to Azkaban to investigate his father like he'd told Hermione he would only to end up exposing Peter Pettigrew as the traitor of the Potters. He felt sick as he recognized the photo of the rat that was Pettigrews animagus form as Ronald Weasley's pet. Yet another reason not to feel quite so bad about dropping the boy as a friend.

Handing the paper to the Grangers Harry picked up the first book in the box and froze. The adventures of Harry Potter, The boy who lived!

No. Fucking! Way!

There were seven books in all starting from when he was four and going until just before he started Hogwarts. He skimmed the summaries and speed read random pages of several of the books and couldn't help but steam in disbelief. Horror and fury were good words too, but really a bit too strong for what he was feeling right now. Maybe that was the shock talking?

A note fell out of the book he was holding limply in his hand and Harry picked it up off the concrete. It was from Eric. Heya Harry, happy birthday! Did you know that you spent a year in china while you were seven studying under the immortal jade emperor and his dragons? It sure came as a surprise to me! And here I thought I was the friend you shared everything with! Harry burned the note, face red. He was certain he could hear the boys laughter from here.

He shook his head and vowed to prank the shit out of the feather brained claw for at least a month straight, he was pretty sure he could get Fred and George to help out. He'd also need some suitable revenge on the authors of this tripe. He'd never done any of this or told the writers they could reinterpret his life for the masses. Hell, this might even be why everyone at school held him on such a pedestal. He scanned the books publishing marks as Hermione had taught him and failed to find anything indicating it as a work of fiction and groaned.

Looking back in the box he found one final book with another letter in the front cover. Sorry about the fairy tales Harry, I was looking through the book store for something you might like when I spotted that tripe. Here's something that I think you might enjoy though, you always said you wanted to know more about your parents, so here's their biographies. Harry picked up the book with trembling fingers and dropped the rest of the box. He was peripherally aware that the Grangers were staring at him, but he didn't really care at the moment. If this book wasn't as much a work of fiction as the rest of them it could be a real connection to his parents, he'd let Eric off lightly he decided and he opened the book and began reading it hungrily.

Hours later and deep into the night he put the book down. The pages were filled with memoirs from people who had known his parents at school and a sparsely detailed overview of their lives afterwards. His mother, Lilly, had masteries in Charms, Potions and Ancient Runes, the last being a subject the woman had taught for three years before her death, and was known to have received NEWTS in in Arithmancy, Alchemy and Transfiguration as well. One thing that threw him though was that the book had very openly stated that Lilly Evans had been very close to the young Severus Snape up until the end of their fifth year where witnesses had heard him call her a mudblood.

He shook himself and briefly went over what he had learned about his father. The man had completed masteries in Transfiguration and Defense before joining Ministry as a Hit Wizard when the brewing war with Voldemort had claimed his parents and family manor. His father had also gotten NEWTS in Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, Charms, Herbology and Divination. By no means stupid it was obvious his dad had been more action oriented than a study bunny like his mom. He did finally know why Snape seemed to hate him though. While thinking about it brought a sour taste to his mouth he remembered the passages about his father and his friends. They had been a cross between the Weasley twins and Draco Malfoy. He shuddered at the thought. James Potter was among the most popular and well liked people in his year as well as a notorious and deeply inventive prankster, but when it came to Slytherins and Snape in particular the man was consistently described as an egotistical bully.

Tiger Lilly though, he thought sleepily, and chuckled to himself as he remembered the passage about how his mother had gotten that name.

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The exchange had gone smoothly and Eric was now the dubiously proud owner of one deranged, emaciated sociopath currently screaming her head off in his trunk. Eric wasn't particularly worried about the woman, as the trunks rooms had been made into a nicely padded cell for the wandless wretch and she was quite safely locked away. But he would deal with her later, now was the moment of truth. Eric, Sirius, Augusta and Healer Tonks were currently standing in Saint Mungo's ward 49 ready to pour a liter of elixir down the throats of Frank and Alice Longbottom.

Healer Tonks was a bit of a curiosity to Eric; she and Sirius had greeted each other with a distinct air of familiarity but there was a sort of wariness there that the redhead didn't particularly like. Shoving his uneasiness to the side Eric did his best to stay calm and coax Mrs. Longbottom to drink the clear potion. The process was slow due to the near vegetative state the woman was in, but slowly, gulp by gulp, the light began to creep back into the woman's eyes and her body slowly filled out beneath the hospital robes.

As Mrs. Longbottom began to return to life and sanity it became strangely harder to keep the woman drinking the elixir requiring Tonks to step in and sooth the woman, performing diagnostic charms with every other breath. "There, there, Alice," she said soothingly "you've been sick for a very long time, please continue drinking your medicine. It'll all be better soon."

Nodding Neville's mother took hold of the bottle and upended it into her mouth and chugged the rest down. Swallowing, she immediately started talking. "Andromeda, where is my son? Last thing I remember is hiding little nev and rushing out to help Frank. Is my son alright? What's going on? How bad was it? How long have I been under? Where's Frank? He's not dead is he? It was the Lestranges! Did you catch them? Little Barty Crouch was there too!"

"Calm yourself cousin," Sirius said darkly "your son is fine and you're among family." He said gesturing to Augusta.

"Black," she said nodding. "I thought you were going into hiding after taking up as the Potters secret keeper?"

"The war's over." Eric spoke up. "Eric Black" he said, sticking out his hand for the woman to shake "Sirius' son."

"Oh, oh dear." Alice replied paling. "How long have I been out." She asked, voice shaking.

"To answer your questions in order," Eric spoke up immediately, turning away to fetch Frank Longbottom, "Your son is in his greenhouse dealing with a werewood I bought to distract him, I'm quite certain he's alright considering his skill with everything flora, you are here recovering from the cruciatus curse and it was bad enough to drive you into a decade of wasting insanity, your husband as well. As for the Lestange's and crouch, they've been dealt with." Eric said, coming back into the curtains, leading the emaciated Frank Longbottom by the arm.

Alice, who looked like she horrified and had been trying to deny what he had been saying, cried out in despair as she saw her husband. "Calm down Alice," Andromeda said, grabbing onto her as she tried to launch herself out of her bed "Frank will be fine in just a moment, you'll see." She turned to Eric who was now coaxing Frank into a chair like he was a slow dog. "And you, Eric, that was a horrible way to break things to the poor woman. You should have left it to us."

Eric looked over his shoulder from where he was coaxing the emaciated man to drink by tilting the man's head back and stroking his throat. "She'll get over it soon enough, she looked just like this vegetable over here a few minutes ago and honestly, I've always found trauma to be like a bandage, pull off the sticking plaster slowly you just draw out the pain and give it time to be psychological, better to tear it straight off so it's all sensation and shock. Besides," he said, pointing at the man who was slowly regenerating into the form of Frank Longbottom "He'll be functional again in a few more gulps."

"Be that as it may, it's unhealthy to be so insensitive to a recovering patient, and cruel besides!" his aunt returned sharply.

"And so was most of my life." Eric said with a shrug.

Alice, who had been looking back and forth between the two of them as they argued, spoke up. "What's going on? You said you were Sirius son, however irresponsible he is it can't be that bad of a father."

Everyone in the room looked at her. "Daughter in law," Augusta spoke up finally "Mr. Black has been in Azkaban for the last decade, just like you and my son have been here. Neville has told me much of young Eric and little of it pleasant."

"You don't have to make it sound so bad." Eric said frowning now, as he turned away from Frank, to look at them. "My early life was quite pleasant, despite Sirius' absence and ignoring my change of circumstances, I think I did quite well after as well." _A bit megalomaniacal, perhaps though_ he thought, trying not to roll his eyes in amusement.

"Your change if circumstances? I'm still lost…"

"My mother was murdered" Eric bit out as he watched Frank Longbottom's cheeks fill out and eyes light up "and I had to watch."

Frank spluttered, spraying elixir all over Eric and Augusta. "Frank, son!" The elder Longbottom cried, in a sudden total lack of decorum as she launched herself on the returned man. "Thank Merlin you're alright."

"Mum, gerroff me!" he wheezed "What was that about watching your mother die, son?" the former Auror asked.

Eric glared at him, dripping, and thrust the rest of the glass beaker at the older man "Bottoms up old man. I'm not explaining anything till your medicine's done."

The man took the bottle and looked at him oddly, "you seem a little young to be training as a healer, son."

"I'm special," Eric countered, "now drink." Eric crossed his arms and starred the man down. Frank looked between him and Andromeda several times; taking in their similar expressions and the slight surprise Tonks was offering Eric and laughed.

"Fine, fine!" The man said, chugging the rest of the Elixir of Life and looking to him expectantly, his eyes touched by mirth, but focused in investigative curiosity. Once done Frank again demanded to hear what Eric had meant about watching his mother die. Eric deflected by explaining Frank and Alice's own circumstances as he understood them, Augusta and Andromeda filling in details here and there. The Longbottoms were suitably distracted and spent the next few hours crying at the events that ended the war and thanking Dame Longbottom for raising their son. Smirking, Eric took the opportunity to slip off with Sirius.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Harry and the grangers stared at the bobble-headed gremlin calling itself Dobby with a mixture of shock, disgust and deep seated fascination as it explained, in between regular bouts of violent insanity, exactly what a house elf was and why Harry should not return to Hogwarts in the coming term.

"The wonderful Harry Potter sir needs to stay safe with his family sir!" the elf concluded.

"But dobby," Harry said "I have no family, and the Dursleys hate me. At Hogwarts I have friends and we're hardly defenseless." He said, floating a foot off the ground and lighting fireballs in either hand.

"Oh! HARRY POTTER MUST BE A GREAT WIZARD INDEED!" Dobby wailed. "IF DOBBY IS TO PROTECT THE GREAT HARRY POTTER SIR THEN HE SHALL FINDS HIM A FAMILY! GOOD BYES AND GOODS LUCK, HARRY POTTER, DOBBY WILL FIND YOU A FAMILY AND KEEP YOU SAFE FROM THE BAD MASTERS PLANS!" Then, with a crack like a whip, the little manikin vanished.

"What in the devil was all that about?" Mr. Granger asked, looking startled. Harry and Hermione shrugged, they'd been listening to the creature as well and they still had little clue. The pair of them looked at each other and nodded in agreement. This meant research.

_**1234567890987654321**_

"Alright, sprog, what do you think?" Eric looked from his father to the house they had just apparated in front of and considered. It was a large two story Tudor in northern Devon with a good sized lawn and numerous trees in the back yard. "It's got five bedrooms, three baths, and plenty of living and cellar space and I haven't even started enchanting it yet!"

"Sounds good, but why, I thought the blacks had several properties?" Eric said nodding.

Sirius made a face. "That's true enough," he said, voice jocular "But they're all dark stuffy places. Good libraries if you want to raid them later, but the estates are fairly steeped in the dark arts and it's painfully visible in the architecture. I used to own a place like this, but being in jail for a decade it got sold. Received a notice a few years back saying all of my stuff was being moved to cold storage, so there's that at least."

"Ah." Replied Eric nodding his head. "I guess a house is as good a birthday present as any."

"Birthday, what?" Sirius said, looking alarmed.

"It's the 13th of August, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah, you didn't tell me it was your birthday though! I haven't got anything!" the dark haired man said looking slightly panicky. "TO THE ALLEY!" he howled with a mad cackle before grabbing Eric in a one armed hug and disaparating.

They appeared in the middle of Diagon Alley with a thunderous crack that had people glaring at them and started walking up and down the street. Sirius wanted to buy Eric a broom but after showing him the cloak they shrugged it off as a bad idea. Eric wanted to look at the rare book shops but Sirius waved him off saying that if he wanted rare books they could look through the black family libraries. They settled on getting Eric a pet, as a first year the allowed list of pets was relatively limited, namely cats, rats, owls or toads, but after first year a student could bring anything that wasn't easily determined as being dangerous to the student body. Usually this extended the range of pets to things like kneezels, krupps, puffskiens and such though occasionally you would see something weird like a quintaped, Kniffler, fire crab or apparently a griffin thirty years ago. Slytherin students occasionally tried for snakes, but it was hard to get them judged safe.

"So," Sirius said, a shit eating grin on his face, "how about this one?"

"A sprite?" Eric asked, reading the name plate on the cage. The thing looked like a cross between a chameleon and a butterfly. "It's cute I suppose, but that's more Padma's thing. What about this?" Eric asked; walking down the row a bit to look at a selection of tarantula's that looked as if they were made of live coals.

"Not bad, cinderwebs are a bit hard to get past the teachers though. Tend to turn your possessions to ash when they inevitably get out. Smart little buggers too, Hogwarts hates them. Good for potions though." Sirius said shaking his head and chuckling.

"I smell a story there somewhere." Eric commented, moving along the aisle and looking at a small winged monkey.

Sirius laughed openly at that one. "Oh yeah, me and Remus bribed Hagrid to smuggle some in and we planted the eggs in Snapes four-poster. They infested the entire room causing all sorts of fowl smoke and leaving little scorch marks everywhere. Hogwarts killed them before anything real bad could happen though, warned the house elves to let our things go for a month after that little incident. It was horrible."

Eric looked up from a dark furred nemean lion cub he was scratching and frowned at his father. "I get the feeling that most of it was mutual, but Professor Snape's an incredibly sour and petty man when it comes to Harry simply because he's James' son, I don't doubt he's going to try and take it out on me too now that I've gotten you exonerated. Was it all really necessary?"

Sirius scowled and turned away from the Kneezel he'd been petting. "Probably not, but you didn't know him back then. Whatever he is now, Snivilus was this horrible creepy little shit back then. As much as we were bullies Snape would return fire with some of the nastiest jinxes and later curses I've ever seen, and I'm a Black. Greasy little prick started it when he hexed James for crushing on Lilly Evans our first week in and things escalated rapidly from there." He laughed softly "not that we didn't have a fair number of rough spots with Evans, but James fancied her since he first met her on the train and she gave a good as she got, better even on occasion!"

Eric tilted his head as he stopped beside the cage of a Shisa pup. "If it was like that then why did you hate Snape and not Lilly?"

Sirius crouched down and watched Eric tickle the pooch until its leg started kicking like a piston and shrugged. "Simple really, Snape reminded me of my family in that he was up to his eyeballs in the dark arts from the moment I met him. Kid knew more curses when he got off the train than half of the students in fifth and sixth year and while I was rebelling against my name, James upbringing made him unable to stand anything to do with the dark arts. Lilly on the other hand was always kind, friendly, openly loyal to people who were friendly back… she had a fiery temper, but she was never what you could call mean. Worst thing about her was that she loved to rub her accomplishments in the faces of 'the inbred bigots' to which she unfortunately included us up until nearly mid sixth year." Sirius grimaced before reaching into an adjacent pen and picking up a shishi kitten with comically oversized paws. "How about this?"

Eric came over and rubbed the felines chin, taking in the small tufts of flame that seemed to roll around its head and tail. "Seems cool enough," he said, coaxing a rumbling purr out of the dog sized kitten "what is it?"

"Shishi if I remember my Care of magical creatures' right." Sirius said. "They're close cousins to that dog you were just giving a belly rub, Chinese spirit guardians, the pair of them. Near human intelligence and impeccably loyal to most types of masters the Chinese wizarding community uses them as temple animals and such. Over here in Europe we've got the kneezel and krupp, but these babies fill much the same role and can get large enough to put a saddle on. A bit expensive normally, but hell, with as many presents as I've missed I'd buy you a whole kennel."

Eric stiffened slightly at this. "I'd intended to get myself a global menagerie when I first learned I was a wizard rather than a Psionic talent, but this'll do for now." Eric said holding the kitten up to eye level and smiling as it put a blue flame wreathed paw on his nose and cried cutely. "Can't exactly take a zoo to school with me, let-alone fit it in my dorm room."

Sirius chuckled "you could try!" he replied. "Hagrid sure did before he became gamekeeper if you believe any of his stories!"

Eric returned the grin. "I wouldn't doubt it too much, I'm helping him raise a Norwegian ridgeback in the school forest!" Eric laughed the whole way out of the shop at the look of utter shock on his fathers' face. It was a good birthday.

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AN: gah! Why was this such a hard chapter to write? I'll admit part of it was because I spent most of the last 8 days at a wedding, but seriously, I've had 60% of these scenes ready for details and dialogue for almost a year!

Regardless, it looks like summer is going to be stretching to three chapters instead of the original one 15k I'd planned on writing, sorry folks, those of you who actually enjoy my work I ask that you please be patient. Next week is school supplies, plotting over Bella and the train. Thank you everyone for your kind reviews, see you again Tuesday, I hope.


	10. Chapter 10

AN: I know the sorting song is short and probably not particular original, and I'm sorry about that but song writing is honestly harder than it looks. Also, It's my birthday tomorrow, please offer a Review! ;-D

Chapter 10

Bellatrix Lestrange's throat itched. It was a rather curious sensation and one she had become accustomed to since the change in her imprisonment. She jerked her arms and legs against their restraints again in boredom and wondered if her esophagus had finished healing yet. She knew she was most likely still in Azkaban prison and had simply gone mad from the strain but the stark unending whiteness, broken only by the restraints as they flowed up her appendages, was entirely disconcerting. For a moment she considered going back to screaming obscenities at nothing again simply for something to do.

"If this is hell I can understand why the dark lord works so hard to avoid it" she muttered, twitching a muscle along her back in hopes of waking up her shoulder.

"**Oh, I don't know, Bella, he may yet join you here...**"A voice hummed from everywhere and yet nowhere.

The violet eyed woman stiffened. "Who's there?!" she demanded, howled really. "What do you want?"

"**I should think that was rather obvious,**" the same omnipresent voice returned "**I want you.**" There was a chuckle that made her flesh crawl and Bella once again began screaming obscenities to an empty room but received no further reply.

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"Must you bait her like that?" Eric looked over towards the speaker. Tonks was currently wearing long shock white hair, a pale heart shaped face and red eyes and red robes. It was an interesting look Eric had to admit as they stood behind a privacy shield overlooking Bellatrix's cell.

"No, but her mind is so shattered I'm finding impossible to make any headway with her. Better to work off my frustrations making that monster squirm than resort to violence against a bound, defenseless woman. Least until I can figure out how to salvage her…" He replied, scratching the ears of an enormous black dog that was sitting beside him, its head nearly up to his waist despite the animal was laying down. "I know you don't like what I've done with our aunt, Dora, but I suppose you have a reason for coming down here?" Eric wondered idly if he would make more progress if he turned up her EoL drip from sustain to repair.

Tonks pouted at the use of her name but nodded. "Mum just mirrored me, says she's met Harry and the Grangers at the airport. They should be here by flu any minute." There was a pause as the now blue haired girl fished in her pocket for something. "Also your school list arrived by owl just after you left breakfast. It was sort of odd not getting one though, I know in my head I just finished my NEWTs a little more than a year ago and I'm training as an Auror, but still sat there for 10 minutes wondering where my letter was." She laughed pleasantly.

"Alright then," Eric groaned, stretching as he really moved for the first time in several hours and electing a number of pops that had Tonks cringing and the bearlike dog huffing in laughter. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yuk it up pops," the red-haired boy said through a groan and gave the animal a noogie. The pooch tried to lick him and Eric dodged giggling and shot for the rooms' door. As he disappeared and was heard thundering up the stair room Sirius transformed back to his usual self.

"So, Nym, how goes Auror training?" the former dog asked as they slowly followed after Eric.

"I'm never going to get you two to just call me Tonks am I?" the girl growled, hair turning red and curly and adopting a willowy figure.

"Nah, not so long as it remains something to tease you about." Sirius replied, grinning easily. "Look at it this way, Nym," Sirius said, taking her by the shoulder as they moved through the intermediate hallway "where from others it might just be to piss you off, from us it's a sign off affection." He squeezed a little as Tonks rolled her eyes, but there was no heat in her expression anymore. "Gotta say though, why Lilly's form?"

Nymphadora looked slightly startled as she took in her current body and grinned weakly. "Just a memory when I was little. I think mum and Mrs. Potter must have been friends because we'd go over to their house occasionally or she'd come to visit and occasionally I'd see her ranting at someone for being an idiot. It was real impressive stuff. Pretty much since then I've adopted the look whenever I wanted to get a good rage on and didn't actually hate the berk." She explained sheepishly.

They were silent for several minutes as they climbed the stairs out into Sirius' house, the den as he and Eric had dubbed it.

"Y'know," she said as they headed towards the living room and Flu, "it's odd. Eric's known me for a whole month, even if we've only really _known_ each other for about a week and a half, and not once has he asked me to morph into anything. Typically it's the first thing people want me to do when they learn about my powers but not him…"

"And you want to know why." Sirius said, letting go of his niece.

"Well, yeah. It's not entirely comfortable and has ruined a few relationships for me, but it's been so long since someone finding out hasn't asked…"

"It's put you at a loss on how to deal with him." Sirius finished, seeing Tonks nod. "What do you know about Eric?"

"Well, he'd bright, persuasive and when I met him, independently rich. He came off as sort of arrogant, but having heard certain stories from people after me and mum lost track of him at Azkaban I can't help but wonder if it wasn't simply confidence." Tonks said with a shrug.

Sirius chuckled bitterly. "I'd take any rumor you hear about the sprog with a grain of salt, but there's a fair amount of truth to most of them. You see Eric was the son of this girl I met shortly before we heard about the prophesy…" He went on to explain to her how he'd met Maria and a great number of other women in the years after Hogwarts and the details he'd been able to gather from Eric on the boys' mother. He told her how Maria had been killed and Eric built himself out of the ashes of his former life, how he'd met McGonagall and tricked the goblins out of a fortune. He described the club Eric had created from which he taught magic the way he'd first learned it, through his trials living a life on the streets and reading muggle ideas about magic.

"Wait, wait, you're saying he's doing advanced wandless magic, something that's impossible except for fairytales, from reading muggle self-help books and kids fantasy?"

Sirius grinned madly "Kinda makes you proud, doesn't it?" Tonks just looked at him stunned. "You know he'll teach you too…" Tonks nodded before scowling as Sirius mussed her hair and walked off.

_**1234567890987654321**_

The Grangers and Blacks wandered through the alley slowly chatting amicably as their children scampered about, catching up on their summer activities and scampering all over the alley looking at the various displays, new and old. Sirius was a little sad that Harry seemed so skittish around him but he supposed it was to be expected, the boy had first learned of his existence as the convict who got James and Lilly killed. He amused himself instead by coaxing Dan Granger to rant about how he thought Harry was corrupting his little girl. Just like James he thought chuckling, crushing on the spunky genius, it was the same with Charlus and Dorea according to James' parents when he'd stayed with them.

He figured it'd be best to start by telling the boy's stories of his and James glory days. That and Lilly, if his talks with Eric held any similarity to the ones he would be having with Harry there would be as many, if not more stories requested about Lilly as there were any of his circle of friends.

Eventually they reached flourish and blots to find the place packed. "Wotcher, Arthur!" Tonks called out to a harried man on the edge of the crowd.

"Oh, hello Tonks! Frightful crowd today, what with Lockheart and his books signing." The balding carrot top said, gesturing at the crowd. "Molly and the kids are inside, how goes your training? They're not pushing you too hard are they?"

"Nah, it's the weekend, spending the time off with my family." Tonks replied, smiling as she gestured to Sirius and Eric.

"Do tell, I'd heard you'd gotten out, Sirius. Nasty business."

The dark haired wizard grimaced "Thanks." He replied, "Though if I'd known about the situations with Harry and Eric I'd have gotten out a lot sooner." Arthur Weasley gave him a shrewd look but said nothing. "SO! What's all this about, you think?"

"Gilderoy Lockheart." Eric spat, coming up from the press of people. "Pretty boy in the store who assigned us seven books for a single class, all of them conveniently written by him."

Hermione gave him a scandalized look. "He's really famous thought. He's won dozens of awards and commendations for his crusade against dark creatures and most of his books are really useful." She blushed slightly. "He likes to pad them with a little fluff, I'll admit, but it's not as if he just makes this stuff up like those books on Harry!"

"I'm more concerned how his fluff tends to overshadow all useful information in anything he publishes, we're here by textbooks, not adventure novels those are supposed to be optional." Eric grumbled while Harry just looked at the pair and laughed. "He better be competent at least."

"Come on, we'd best get our books." Sirius said grinning. With a sucking pop he transformed into a Bhargest and knelt down. Using the variation on Legillimancy Eric had been teaching him the last few days he sent _get on_. Eric grinned and turned to his two friends. "Wanna be in and out fast?" he asked. Hermione looked dubious, but was too interested in what Sirius had done to say no and Harry nodded sharply. The three of them scrambled on to Sirius' shoulders, Harry in front and Hermione in the middle, and he stood up again.

Sirius barked and several people turned to him, before leaping away screaming as the massive dog started forward. There were multiple cries of grim by various wizards and warg by muggleborns but the screaming quickly turned to excited whispers and Harry was recognized riding atop Padfoot. They made their way through the crowd which parted around them, staring in awe as they selected their books, blatently not using their wands to levitate them off the shelves as they passed and headed for the main counter.

They had almost made it when a tall blond man with periwinkle blue robes stepped up to them. The man was making a visible effort not to sweat as his bright blue eyes flickered between Padfoot and Harry. "Well bless my soul," the man said, his voice ringing with forced cheer "If it isn't Harry potter, here to purchase a set of my books! Come Harry, come together we're worth the front page at least!" He reached for Harry's arm, ignoring Hermione and Eric seated right behind him but froze as Padfoot growled lightly. "Er… that's a… nice pet you have th-there H-Harry… what is it, pray tell?"

"Don't worry Mr. Lockheart, sir, it's not a Grim…" Eric spoke up loudly, laughing internally as everyone flinched at the name "It's a Bhargest." Eric answered for him. "Very powerful, very intelligent magical wolf." The Redhead explained to the crowd enjoying their rapt attention. "It's Harry's familiar and answers only to his call!" Eric continued, spinning bullshit on the spot.

_What are you doing!?_ Harry's mental voice crashed into Eric's head.

_I'm giving you and excuse to take Sirius to school with us_ Eric shot back, still grinning. _You wanted to know about your parents, I want to get to know mine, this solves both problems! Plus the old man can teach us how to transform this year like he does!_

Harry projected a frown into his mind then receded. He felt Harry begin talking with Sirius at the very edge of his mind and the great dog proceeded forward toward Mr. Flourish's counter assistant.

Not one to be stymied however, Lockheart motioned to his photographer and positioned the pair of them to be photographed as though they were together before announcing to the crowd his appointment to the post of Defense against the dark arts teacher. He tried to bring Harry and the others in for another picture but they had already reached the counter, Sirius growling softly whenever the crowd tried to push them back toward the other showman.

As they exited the store Hermione began reprimanding them. "Eric, how could you? I'd have expected intimidation tactics from a Slytherin, but that was just low, and you Sirius, encouraging him! You didn't even buy his books!"

"If I wanted an adventure series I'd go to a civilian book store, Hermione." Eric said, slipping off his father's back and offering his Gryffindor friends a set of purple hard light steps to dismount. "I'm not going to waste gold on fluff I'm not actually interested in reading." He shook his head. "Besides, this will be much better for defense classes." He said, showing her a book on dueling techniques.

Hermione frowned but nodded. "We'll see" she said simply.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Albus Dumbledore paced in his office, hands balled in his hair. It made no sense! Where was the stone? Who had stolen it? There were only three people besides himself who could have gotten through the traps he had set, let alone make their war back out without him being alerted. Being that Nick was still in a towering fury and had tried to curse him out of the manor and Dear Gellert was still languishing in Neurimguard that left young Tom. The man had been in the castle at the time, he was sure of that now, but if he had taken the stone why then was he back to possessing vermin in Albania? Had he only taken it shortly before meeting Potter and not found the time to reconstitute himself? If that was the case then why had he run? Why not possess some other nearby body and retrieve the stone then?

"AAAAaaauuurrrggg!" He stormed before the cringing portraits of former headmasters his legendary control slipping and violet wisps of power lighting up the area around him with a soft radiance. This game was hard enough to play with just known characters mucking things up, why did someone new have to introduce themselves? And why now of all times!?

"Severus!" the wizened headmaster barked into a mirror "attend me!"

Moments later the flu in his office chimed and he allowed the sallow skinned man through. "You called?" Snape intoned scowling.

"Yes, of course." The half-blood powerhouse said; his back to the professor. "I need you to get in touch with your old acquaintances. Put our feelers for anyone who's suddenly been building a fortune in precious metals or sudden miracle cures of hopeless cases in hospitals. Also, I need you to contact Ku Lon in Beijing and Ishimura Juo in japan. The immortal emperors have been trying to steal Flamel's stone for centuries; I need to know if either of them has been showing signs of activity in the last decade."

Snape smirked and tossed a recent copy of the daily prophet on his desk. "Perhaps you'll find this enlightening." He said sneering.

Albus whirled around and seized the paper, reading the front page story. "They can't be serious…" the bearded man whispered in disgust. "Augusta, sacrifice herself to restore Frank and Alice?" He scanned the story about the old woman's funeral and the magic she claimed to have wrought to restore the pair. "Severus, see if you can discretely collect samples from the Longbottom's and this mysterious second cousins grandniece would you? I'll supply you with a small sample of the serum for analysis and comparison. In the meantime I'm going to be researching this ritual."

_**1234567890987654321**_

Ron sat at Florian Fortisque's ice-cream parlor and regarded his purchases with unfocused eyes, slowly licked his pumpkin and caramel cone as he contemplated the feeling of being able to buy things new with his own money instead of getting it second or third hand through his family. It was… nice, light and almost, bubbly?. Visiting Ollivander had been an interesting experience he would be the first one to admit. His new wand had cost him seven galleons and was 14 inches of willow wood and unicorn hair and after a few spells it became painfully obvious how much easier it was to use than Charlie's old one. He was loathe to admit it, but it seemed as if Stark had been right about that too.

Ron stirred slightly as he heard a chair scraping beside him. "Hi Ginny" he said without even looking over.

"Hullo" his sister said quietly. "Life sucks."

"Oh?"

"Harry was in Flourish and Blots just now," the girl grumped, putting her head down on her arms "he walked right past me and didn't even notice. I tried to talk to him, get his attention on top of that big wolf of his and I just froze."

"Wolf?" Ron asked, finally looking over at his sister and taking in her pile of Lockheart books with a raised brow. Merlin he was glad he'd managed to convince mum to allow him to buy his supplies on his own this year.

"Yeah, he's just like the stories, came in riding this cute shaggy black dog the size of a bear. He called it a Bhargest and said it was his familiar he'd picked up on his summer travels. To have tamed deaths own hound…" she looked dreamy and Ron turned away in disgust.

"You'll never get him you know." Ron said, his ice cream turning sour on his lips.

Ginny looked up from where her head rested on her arms and glared at him. "What makes you say that?" she demanded furiously.

"Did you see a bushy haired girl anywhere near him?" At his sisters' nod Ron continued, digging the knife in a little deeper. "That was Hermione Granger, his girlfriend. If you want Harry you'll have to get her out of the way first and woe betide anyone who tries. He and Eric made me a pariah for insulting her and defeated a troll in her name during Halloween. Beat the thing black and blue, a full grown mountain troll that left an entire corridor in shambles, craters everywhere." Ron watched as the wheels began to grind behind Ginny's dreamy gaze and she got this determined scowl on her face; it made him smile inside. Ron knew neither of the boys would hurt her unless Gin did something _really_ stupid but he'd just garneted Eric a minimum or six months headaches and Harry and Hermione far longer. Today was turning out to be a pretty good day.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Eric stared at Arthur Weasley with a goofy grin on his face formed by a strange mix of elation and horror. The Black/Potter household was over at the Weasley Burrow on the invitation of Fred and George when Eric had stumbled on Mr. Weasley giggling amongst a pile of dismantled car parts. The man was covered in grease and had a book on civilian mechanics floating around his head as he messed with the dismantled pieces of machinery. The red haired man had been updating the array of charms he'd spent the last decade layering into the engine and chaises of the vehicle in an effort to make it more magical.

And he'd done it, too. The car was a turquoise Ford Anglia 105E built in 1962 and bought by the Wesley family in the mid 70's when one of their civilian neighbors asked which car was theirs on the way out of the grocers. Arthur, who had received an outstanding NEWT in muggle studies had been instantly fascinated with the machines and bought one from a used car dealer the next day. And that was only one of the many things in the orange haired mans' garage.

"And here's my collection of plugs!" the balding man said proudly. "I've been experimenting with these little beauties for years though I still can't fathom how muggles get this eckeltricity out of them."

"Electricity," Eric corrected.

"Oh? You know about it do you?" his friend's father asked, excited. "What exactly is it? Where do muggles get it from? How do they use it as a substitute for magic?" the man babbled.

Eric grinned and charged his hands with lightning, brilliant white arcs jumping between his hands and explained. "This is electricity" he said "lightning, simply enough. Civilians have been using it for nearly two centuries and have learned to trap it in bottles for use later. When they need it they stick a copper wire into the bottles and attach the other end to one of those plugs." Eric bullshitted the man. He wasn't exactly lying, but he had to translate the basics of the process into something a wizard would understand and it sounded a lot cooler besides. The man oohed and ahhed before launching into another set of questions about how civilians managed to capture electricity prompting Eric to explain the little he knew about batteries, engines and generators. It wasn't much, the smaller red haired boy was displease to recognize, but he'd never put much study into mechanics preferring theoretical physics and electronics over in depth understanding of just how mechanical systems worked.

The pair of them had rigged up a set of magnets and charmed them to spin around some iron rods so that power sparked between them when Sirius came to fetch him for the trip home. "Hey, sprog" the dark haired man said from the door "we should get going. Got the express tomorrow and everybody still needs to pack."

"Alright, old man." Eric shot over his shoulder before turning back to Mr. Weasley. "Mr. Weasley, Arthur… how do you like your job at the ministry?"

The man looked startled at the sudden change of subject but considered it for a few minutes. "The pay is horrible and it's often frustrating cleaning up after muggle baiters, but the work is fascinating and more over it's something that needs to be done, why?"

"Fred and George are planning to set up a joke shop after leaving Hogwarts and selling their inventions to the public like Zonko's or Gamble and Jacque's. How would you feel if I played financial backer so that you could do something similar with the stuff you've been making in your garage?" the man looked startled at this and Eric plowed on before he could object. "You're obviously a skilled charmer and enchanter, just look what you've done with this car? Open and honest I'd pay you a thousand galleons for that alone." the man looked stunned at that pronouncement and Eric knew he had the man at least willing seriously consider thing. Eric grinned, flying cars! He couldn't wait. "Think about it for a second Mr. Weasley… how much are brooms worth, typically a few dozen galleons a piece unless you buy them second hand or damaged, they're small, typically uncomfortable, can't carry much and seating multiple passengers is difficult, typically slow and merlin forbid you actually try to take luggage with you. But a car… one of purely magical manufacture would be something even the most hardcore purebloods couldn't complain about, would be able to blend in with muggle society, carry large amounts of cargo safely and easily, transport anywhere from one to several dozen people depending on the design and the charms… you would be creating an entirely new market. No regulations to limit you, too early for politics, just exploration, understanding and endless creativity. How about it, Weasley? Would you like to be my wonder-craft?"

The two older men looked at Eric, stunned and reeling. "G-give me some time to think on this." The older redhead said slowly. "I'll have to talk to Molly about this you understand."

Eric nodded and pulled his bag off his hip. Reaching in he drew out a stream of loose galleons that floated together to form 50 stacks of 20 coins glinting in the evening sun light. "I'll leave you this and a two way mirror," Eric said quietly, conjuring a sack to pour the mass of metal and glass into before handing it to the older man "to help you decide. Even if you don't decide to take me up on this business proposition I still intend for you to make my car. Call my name over the mirror later and we'll work out the details."

_**1234567890987654321**_

On the morning of September first Harry was woken by his godfather Sirius Black nearly an hour before breakfast and asked to come to the study. When he arrived it was to see Sirius seated before the house-elf he had met earlier that summer, Bobby or something.

"Hey, pronglset, sorry for getting you up so early, but would you care to explain to me why I caught an elf trying to steal your trunk?"

Harry looked between Sirius and Dobby confused slightly before he remembered where he'd seen the creature before. "Um, well, he says there's some sort of problem with the school, that his, and I quote 'bad master', is planning something. Wouldn't tell me what or who the problem is though. How'd you catch him anyways?"

"Ah, well, my mother had a rather fowl house elf named creature that she used to set to harass me, ugly unpleasant little bugger, so one of the things I learned during runes and Arithmancy and Runes with Remus was how to set up wards that would work on them. It's pretty complicated stuff to do and all it allows me to do is know when they come and go and pin them down if they try to steal from me, or in this case, you. It won't stop them, but they can't teleport out like they can through a normal anti-apparition, anti-portkey wards."

Harry nodded and turned to Dobby who was sobbing miserably but making no sound. "You silenced him?" Harry asked with a raised brow.

"He wouldn't talk any sense," Sirius shrugged "kept going on about how you were a great wizard and needed to be kept safe as if that isn't obvious." Harry felt a bubbling sensation in his chest as his godfather spoke but did his best to ignore it and asked for Sirius to remove the curses restraining him.

Immediately Dobby rushed to Harry's legs, sobbing. "Great harry potter sir, yous' must listen! You cannot go backs to hoggywarts's, it's not safe! Dobby is seeing that the great Harry Potters' has found himself a family withs his dogfather and does not need to go back to school! Please heed Dobby, Harry Potter sir, please."

"Are you ready to tell me what the danger is, Dobby? Or who your master is so we can stop him?"

The elf shook his head rigorously. "A house elf is bound to keep his masters secrets and his silence" the elf thrilled thought the sobs.

"And yet here you are," Padfoot pointed out "betraying your masters secrets and probably even disobeying him… if you can go that far, why not just tell us straight?"

"Because dobby has not yet told his masters secrets and is not being given orders to be disobeying," Dobby said craftily "warning harry potter that there's are secrets to be feared is not telling or disobeying, but still dobby must punish himself most grievously when he gets's home, sir."

The pair of humans looked at each other for a moment before Sirius spoke. "Devious little bugger isn't he?" Harry nodded before turning back to the manikin.

"Dobby, if you can't tell me who your master is or what he's planning can you at least tell me if it's a threat to myself or a threat to the school in general?"

The elf took several minutes to consider before answering. "The school in general, Mr. Harry Potter sir, but the great Harry Potter will no doubt become a specific target if he stays at school this year."

"And you said it isn't Voldimort again?" Harry asked, confirming what the creature had told him earlier that summer.

After briefly clapping his hands over those enormous ears and whimpering the elf repeated the strained posture he had taken when asked this same question the first time. "Not the name which must not be spoken, sir…" he said with a shake of his head and a pleading look. Sirius frowned thoughtfully but said nothing and Harry looked between the two of them curiously. There was obviously something he was missing in the elf's words, but what he honestly couldn't fathom.

"Dobby," Harry said, turning back to the elf "what is it that makes Harry Potter great?"

"Harry Potter is knowing this sir, yous is a symbol of hope! Yous and yours family's sacrificed themselves to save the world. The house elves was treated like trash under the dark lords reign, though, dobby is still being treated like trash, sir" the midget repeated, looking at Harry confused.

"If I stayed here instead of going to school I couldn't offer my power and protection to those who remained. All that evil needs to triumph is for good people to do nothing, dobby, knowing that someone is trying to hurt the school I cannot stay back and do nothing. If I did I wouldn't be a great wizard, now would I?" The elf opened and closed his mouth several time looking for all the world like a fish before bursting into tears again and declaring Harry's greatness. Harry sighed, as much as this would probably solve him the problem of being visited by the elven fanboy there was still another threat to the school like there had been last year, he really hoped that this didn't become a recurring theme. _Oh merlin_ he thought, shuddering_ I'm beginning to think like Eric…_

_**1234567890987654321**_

The train ride had been a rather peaceful event for Eric and the inner circle. Padfoot and Eric's shishi cat 'Tony' lay curled up in the middle of the expanded compartment, Penny was off with Percy in the prefect's carriage and Hermione was chatting animatedly with Su and Padma about Germany leaving him, Harry, Blaise and the twins to talk pranks. The twins latest project had been a series of joke candies and the pair of them were arguing on which approach had been better, charming the sweets or making potions to achieve the desired effects. Eric suggested a few civilian classics like coco-lax, whoopee cushions and face painting while Blaise brought out the big guns and suggested a book on crafting hallucinations and mentioned a number of tricks his mother often used to driver her husbands around the bend. Despite their typical lack of interest in being truly vindictive the twins did actually take quite an interest in Blaise's train of thought and spent several hours discussing the books contents and possible uses and concoctions.

This conversation lasted until they arrived at Hogsmead station and left the train. After the twins directed them towards a line of carriages hitched to what looked like corrupted Pegasus Blaise decided to suddenly speak up. "Alright," he said as Tony leapt up into Eric's lap "Potter goes to Germany, meets his familiar and it follows him to school, I get that, but what's with the cat?"

Eric laughed as the rest of the expanded carriage turned to look at him and the flaming pus curled up across his legs. "It's a Chinese tiger called a Shishi, Dad bought it for me as the first in a series of presents to make up for not being not knowing about me for 11 years. A bit silly, but I appreciate the sentiment. Shishi are kind of like kneezels, but on a bigger scale."

Su snorted. "It suits you," she said, gesturing to the cats' neck and tail "give a flaming kitten to a guy obsessed with fire, as if you needed the encouragement. Your dad's got an interesting sense of humor."

Su and Padma looked at each other for a second before saying in unison. "We're all gonna die."

Eric frowned, "Hey!" he whined "why you got to be so mean?"

"You're cute, Eric, but whining doesn't suit you." Su said deadpan.

"Oh, pish posh." He shot back, waving a hand negligently as the rest of the compartment laughed. "On a more serious note, how are we going to go about dealing with the new class? Active recruiting, or let them come as the rumor mill leads them to curiosity?"

"That depends on your idea of active recruiting" George said.

Eric was about to answer but Harry cut him off "just telling them about what we're going directly and where to find us. Eric's usual theatrics during class helped everyone learn the material better, I'm sure you two have heard the teachers talking about it, I know Hermione and I have."

Eric grinned broadly, "what he said, though I was thinking more entice them there by offering maps of the school and various study aids. The real golden reputation would come if we help a couple of fifth years get O's in all of their OWL's using our method."

The rest of the drive up to the school was taken up talking strategy and the ethics of recruiting. When they arrived at the doors of the entrance hall Eric took another long look at the scaly, bat-like pegasai attached to the carriages before heading inside. He'd have to remember to ask Hagrid about them when he went down to bother him about the ridgeback.

As the reached the great hall the friends split up to take places at their own tables and waited for the feast to begin. It was nearly 15 minutes later when Eric, like many of the other claws, pulled his nose out of a book he'd started reading to watch the new first years stumble in. Eric counted them absently and found himself startled as his count went past 40. As the first few newbies came to a halt at the Slytherin end of the staff table Eric quickly went through them again; _69_ he thought, _why do seven years of students have between 25 and 45 students while this class has 69?_ Eric's thoughts were interrupted by Professor McGonagall brought out the sorting hat and the song began.

"**A thousand years or ago  
Before I was ripped and torn,  
Four sorcerers came together,  
And dear Hogwarts School was born.  
Each founder picked the traits  
That he or she liked best,  
They put their thoughts inside me,  
And now I'll put you to the test. **

**Do you have the stubborn courage  
That dear Gryffindor admired?  
Or perhaps you have the sheer intelligence  
That fair Ravenclaw required.  
Would Hufflepuff suit you better,  
With your honest dedication?  
Or perhaps the cunning and ambition,  
From which Slytherin gave station? **

**Don't fret, my friends, I will decide  
Which house is best for all.  
And choose the place where you'll reside  
In seven coming falls.  
So step right up, slap me on,  
I'll tell you what to do.  
The Sorting Hat will place you  
With others just like you."**

Eric watched as, one after another, students were sorted into various houses, his attention warring between boredom and curiosity. Why were there so many? What had changed? What was different? Dad had said the war was horrible, had it really made that much difference? But that would only make sense if next years influx was bigger, this group would still have been under the dark lords thumb. Eric briefly considered Sirius' mentions of Harry's prophesy and the year between but that should have decreased the number of children, what with Voldemort searching for brats born on or near July 31st to kill. Or had he known that it would be Harry beforehand?

"Hello, Magneto, are the nargles bothering you?"

"Eh?" was Eric's intelligent reply. He looked up from his hands where a group of metal balls had been dancing in time to his thoughts to see a new girl with dark-blond hair and almost bulbous silvery eyes, thought that was probably an effect of the lenses she was wearing. The glasses were upside down and looked as if they had been made from jam jars cut off and soldered to their frames.

"Nargles, they're transperant little creatures that float in through your ear and turn your thoughts all funny. Signs are staring at things without seeing them, sudden burst of accidental magic, drooling and an expression of constipation." She said handing him a small magazine titled the quibbler, opened to page 13 with a picture of what looked like a cross between a fish and a bumblebee on it. "I thought since you had three of the four symptoms…" she trailed off, smiling pleasantly and Eric heard Su and Padma snort on either side of him.

"Um, no…" Eric said nonplussed, "I was meaning about calling me Magneto."

"Hmm? Oh, it just popped into my head, though those metal balls are sticking together." She said waving vaguely as Su's sniggers kept increasing. "Would you like a radish?" Luna asked, turning to her. "you seem to be suffering from a blibbering humdinger sting, they're quite the tasty antidote."

"We've got to keep her," Padma said on his other side, "I don't think I've ever seen Eric so out of sorts. It's like he has no witty comebacks at all!"

Eric pouted at the Indian girl before giving a full body shiver that reminded him of his fathers' canine form. "So," Eric said, cupping his hands together and concentrating "you were judged worthy of being a raven then?" he asked as the power collecting in his hands ignited in silver flames.

"Oh yes," the girl replied, her airy expression becoming focused as she watched the fires in his hands grow and form themselves into the form of a curvy woman with wings. The features were indistinct as they rippled and fluttered like the flames they were. "most of my family has been and I occasionally write articles for daddy's paper. It's the most fascinating blend of learning and creativity, Muggles call it investigative journalism. May I interview you on your relationship with the heliopaths?"

"What's a heliopath?" Eric asked as the silvery fire fairy began dancing in his hands, its feet tickling his skin as it moved.

"You're playing with one aren't you? Heliopaths are fire spirits, elementals that burn everything in their path." Luna said, taking Eric's attention back from the seven students yet to be sorted.

"Oh. OH! No, this is similar I suppose. This is living fire; I found the spell over the summer when I was raiding dad's family libraries. Want to play with it? It won't burn you, just small bits of your power, they're supposed to change colors based on your life and personality."

Luna held out her hand and giggled as the little fairly like ember moved over her fingers like a curious animal before swarming up her arm and settling near her ear, turning a soft gold at its heart and fading to an angry red with flecks of black at the hands and wing tips. Su and Padma looked on amused expressions on their faces as if they had found a new toy but before anyone could speak the sorting had ended and Dumbledore has stood up.

"Welcome everyone, to another wonderful year! I know you're all eager to get to the food so I won't bore you with an old mans twaddle just yet, instead I'd like to offer these words! Agraffe, witzelsucht, steatopygic, farctate!"

"That's not very nice." Pouted Luna.

"Oh?" asked Padma, "what did he say? I got the impression he just spouted nonsense, the older students all agree he does this to start off most feasts. Nobody really understands it though…"

"The first word is about wine bottles, the second means a poor attempt at humor and the last was telling us to get stuffed."

"So what's offensive about that?" asked Su as she began serving herself from a plate of red pork.

"Well, with third word he said our butt's were fat! I don't think I have a big butt, do you?" The rest of the nearby listeners looked at her slightly stunned, had Dumbledore just made fun of everyone? It was such a non sequitur that the other students up and down the table started thinking of the words the headmaster had said in previous years and examining them for hidden meanings. It would certainly fit with his doddering old genius demeanor.

Eric shook off the disturbing train of thought and levitated a platter of steak over to his plate and started making selections. The scene repeated itself up and down the house tables wherever one of Eric's students sat, drawing the jealous stares of older students who had thus far written the sorcery club off as a joke and the awed looks of the younger students. Eric grinned at this new advertisement and began planning his introductory demonstration for new inductees.

Eric glanced over to the end of the Gryffindor table where Harry sat, bracketed by the Weasley twins and Hermione, handing steaks to Sirius. _Enjoying yourself, dad?_ Eric sent as the mans shaggy form stood on it's back legs and hopped toward a floating steak. It was drawing a lot of laughs from the rest of the tables.

_Absolutely,_ his fathers thoughts returned _I've played the lovable stray before and James once suggested I make the change permanent. The shape I could handle, but the fleas were murder._

_There should be a charm for that…_ Eric returned thoughtful, _but I'd rather a father than a pooch and I'm sure Harry would appreciate his dog-father being able to give him a home more than a pet._

_Hey, it was your idea to bring me like this_ the older black reminded him.

_It was the best pretense I could think of _Eric returned with a mental shrug. _Unless you think Dumbledore would hire you as a teacher? Next years defense instructor maybe? Or first official sorcery instructor, the old coot's been pushing me to get an adult for the position._

Eric got an impression of the steak his father currently had his teeth in as it stubbornly hung in the air, forcing the great dog to hop around on his hind feet to eat it. _Well, no defense teacher has really lasted a year for the last 20 so perhaps get rid of Lockheart? He was a claw a year or two ahead of me and the school joke. Great at theory, but practically a squib otherwise. As for sorcery teachers, perhaps you could entice Nymphadora…_ there was a fair amount of insinuation in Padfoots thoughts that Eric wasn't sure he wanted to think about but the suggestion was an interesting one.

_I thought she was training to be an auror?_

_Tonks likes to help people, probably comes with being a puff, I suggested the teaching position to her and she looked like she was actually putting thought into it. _ Eric contemplated that for a few moments before his father spoke again _you also impressed her by not asking her to become anyone with her powers. _

Eric sent back a wave of confusion _how so? It's not as if illusions are difficult magic, thought the control she has over them is somewhat jealously inducing… _Eric stopped as his father started laughing at him over the link. _What? What did I say?_

_Nym's powers aren't illusions!_ Sirius sent back, mirth flowing through the connection in waves _she genuinely changes her body to suit her mood, it's an old bloodline ability the blacks used to be famous for called metamorphmagus. Something that tickles me no end is that it and the black fire haven't been seen in over a dozen generations only to show up the moment our house sprouts a pair of halfbloods! Not really the point though, during school people often took advantage of her ability to engages in various fantasies, asking her to become various things or people for their own amusement most people who learn of her ability immediately ask her to become someone for them. She takes it in stride, but tends to keep relations with them short. You though go for over a month knowing her and don't ask, just treating her as family. _

_Fascinating_ Eric sent back. As if he didn't have enough reasons to like Dora already… Eric thought about how to approach his second cousin about her ability as it was obviously a touchy subject when the feast ended, prompting Dumbledore to stand once more.

"Well, now that everyone is drowsy and content from this fine spread, I shall ask you to remain awake for these start of term notices. First, the danger of the third floor corridor on the right hand side has been cleared, and a good thing too as our now professor of Defense, Gilderoy Lockhart," he paused for a moment while the blond wizard stood and bowed to his applause, "has chosen to make his office and class there as opposed to his predecessors choice of the first floor."

Eric nodded absently, reaching down to scratch Tony behind the feline's ears as it rubbed against his leg. He listened as the man went down the list of new items filch had banned from the school and an announcement that Ravenclaw would be trialing seekers and beaters to replace recent graduates as would Slytherin and Hufflepuff. Eric wondered briefly if he could try out for beater with his cloak instead of a broom but quickly discarded it, playing magic teacher, fun as it was, already cut into enough of his research time, he didn't need to add another distraction.

After another rendition of 'Hoggy hoggy hogwarts' the hall broke and headed for their respective dorms.

AN: Shorter than usual I know, but it was cut it off here or go for another 7k as my next breaking point was the end of lockhearts lesson. In September 1992 the first falls on a Tuesday so classes start Wednesday and that's morning defense for the purrs and least by the schedules I've managed to dredge out of the net.


	11. Chapter 11

Ah finals, the bane of student everywhere…

Chapter 11

Eric glanced at the class schedules as they were passed out the following morning. It was pretty much the same as last year. Double potions with the puffs on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday were Charms and then Transfiguration with the lions's, Double DA with the badgers on Friday and History of Magic and Herbology with Slytherin this morning. Eric absently let Tony lick the bacon grease off his fingers and began rubbing the Shishi's chin, prompting it to purr. He was starting in on an omelet he'd requested of one of the breakfast platters when a palpable sense of menace filled the room. Looking around wildly he saw nothing of note other than the post owls soaring in through their shafts near the ceiling. He gave a shrug and a frown before turning back to his eggs and ham the situation was familiar to him but for the life of him he couldn't remember why.

Then Errol slammed like a bomb into his plate, scattering food and utensils everywhere. Eric didn't know who the ancient half dead owl belong to but he immediately recognized the smoking red letter attached to its leg, somebody had sent him a howler.

Sighing Eric put a finger to the owls leg where the string was tied to it and cast a miniaturized difindo at it, freeing the owl from its burden which immediately began to smoke. Eric momentarily considered what to do about the cursed missive, it was quite the interesting bit of spell work and he honestly wanted to study it but was he really willing to allow anyone into his private business, let-alone everyone? No, this person, whoever they were, wanted to make a scene, probably thinking they could get him to break under the weight of public pressure, he's seen the tactic used in gangs often enough and it was always best to crush such notions quickly before they became a hassle. Summoning a knife from a nearby place he quickly slammed it through the paper which had lifted off the table in preparation to scream at him. Those who hadn't turned to look at him when the unfortunate owl had fallen on his plate quickly joined the rest as the crash of his ramming the blade home into the wooden table rang across the room.

"Can I help you?" Eric asked loudly as the letter twitched and whistled under his hand. The stares continued for several seconds before most of them turned away, whispering. The redhead himself turned back in his seat and found himself looking at Luna Lovegood.

"Jägers bothering you, Magneto?" the girl said pleasantly, grabbing some toast and bacon.

"Hmm?" he asked looking at her serene expression before shrugging. "Na, somebody's mad though, so I'm giving a moment to calm down, shouldn't last long." He said as his eyes began glowing a faint plum and starred at the letter. "Fascinating…" he watched intently as the magic in the letter bled out as it tried and failed to fulfill its purpose. As the strings of violet energy finally stopped wafting off the papers surface and the sheet turned white once more Eric shunted the memories of the magic's patterned shapes to a place where he could recall it quickly and wrenched the steak knife out of the table. Snatching up the letter he unfolded it.

Eric Sirius Black ne Stark,

You will leave my family alone, do you hear me? Wasn't it enough that you make Ronald's life hell that you had to encourage my sons to throw away their futures on a joke shop and tell my husband to give up his job at the ministry to make you a flying car? Arthur wastes enough of his time in that garage already without you corrupting him! You think you can buy us like the Malfoy's? I will not have it, do you hear me? If you ever darken my family with your presence again then by Merlin and Morgana I will see you in cursed!

Eric growled under his breath, the note was unsigned but from the contents he could easily see who had sent it. _Stupid interfering bitch_ he thought nastily.

"Hmm, by that expression, it's defiantly Jägers." Eric's thoughts cut off abruptly and his head snapped up to look quizzically at the odd blond.

"What are Jägers? I'll be the first to admit I don't know everything about magical creatures, but I've never heard of these Jägers, unless you're referring to the slang for the giant black cat the Jaguar."

"Oh no, not a jaguar, thought you do seem to have a thing for cats…" she said, looking over to where Padma and Su were coming down the stairs off to the side of the great hall. "A Jägers is a little demon that lives in water and when drunk it causes the drinker to become terribly angry. Drink enough of them and you become a monster, with horns and teeth and claws and everything." She said earnestly, her great silver eyes unblinking.

Eric blinked stupidly and stared at the blond for several long moments as his two female friends sat down on either side of him. "Hello, uh, Luna was it?" Eric shook his head as the three girls surrounding him started chatting and made a note to mirror Mr. Weasley for a chat after classes today. It should probably be done before dinner so that the older redhead would still be at work and away from his wife. Pulling out a pen Eric wrote himself a note on the inside of his elbow and ordered another omelet.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Eric stared at Bins disgusted. "Professor, you can't honestly mean to tell me that in nearly twelve thousand years of magical history, nine of which we actually have records from in the library, your syllabus for this and the next six years revolves solely around dark creature rebellions of this millennia?"

The ghost looked at him implacably before speaking in that same wheezy monotone he always lectured in. "No, Mr. um… Spark, was it? We cover the forming of the ICW and statute of secrecy as well."

"Both of which happened because of dark creature rebellions." Eric insisted, irritation clear in his voice. The rest of the class was staring at him, probably wondering why he was arguing with Bins instead of sleeping or mechanically writing notes like the rest of them.

"Well, yes, the ICW was formed in an attempt to negotiate a reasonable cessation of hostilities between wizard kind and the other magical nations, but I hardly see…"

"The civilian anti-magic movement started with the formation of the Christian church under noted Jewish demon hunter Jesus of Nazareth two thousand years ago when he told his civilian followers that the monsters they feared were policed and regulated by magical society. After his ascension as a demi-god his civilian followers wrote the Malleus Maleficarum, a literal how to manual for tracking down and subduing witches and wizards. Thing is, even with the book things really went nowhere for the most part, a few nut jobs here and there, most of which used the thing as an excuse to kill civilian women who were getting, what's the word, 'uppity'. As is noted in our history of magic book though, attempts on real witches and wizards spiked every time there was a magic creature rebellion until the Spanish inquisition in the fourteen to sixteen hundreds which came on the heels of a dark lord who, like Voldemort," Eric rolled his eyes as the class flinched or squeaked at the name "had a particular fondness for setting dark creatures on civilian population centers. The Ministry and other similar foreign groups were formed as a way to reach out to the local governments and politely sooth tensions created by the inquisition, but the inquisition itself was a response to said dark lord, a concept you still haven't even touched on in class."

"Mmm…which concept young man?" Bins asked.

"Dark lords." Eric returned deadpan as the professor now. "Dark creature rebellions are all well and good, despite your obvious apparent bias, but only covering one millennia out of twelve and completely ignoring the dark lords? What about the greats, Ptolemy, Nebakanezer, Solomon, Baba Yaga, Antonis The Invincible, Merlin, Horus, half the kings of Egypt and Greece, what of the founding four of Hogwarts or Nicolas Flamel? Bloody hell, Grindelwald and Voldemort himself if you want to get into recent history, both are big things to know about, you pure and half-bloods who grew up in the wizarding world might be familiar with the names, but the rest of us got to stumble along in the dark here and simply hearing you tell us to hate other magical races and how the witch trials were a joke isn't really learning history. You people keep telling me that wizarding Europe and Brittan is something to be proud of but if I don't know about achievements and struggles of the people involved, how can I really understand that? What reason would I have to care?"

At this point the entire class was staring at him in open shock. Several of them were opening and closing their mouths like fish out of water, especially the Slytherins, and Eric felt like bashing his head against the wall as it became obvious that none of this had even occurred to most, if any, of them. The muggle-born's and half-bloods at least were looking as if they were giving the situation some serious thought and even a few of the Slytherins showed the dawning light of comprehension. "In that case, Evan, was it? What would you like to know about?"

"How about let's start with recent news, since I already went on a rant about it, how about we learn how it is that the witch trials, which were apparently such a joke, drove an entire society so scared we decided to systematically mind rape any and every civilian who talks about magic in public?"

"Well, what do you want me to say?" Bins asked irritably "I've already given you my lecture last year. Burning never worked, a simple flame freezing charm and it became something of a sport for numerous witches, most notably Wendelin Weasley, who took a shining to the sensation, so much so that she actually took to going out of her way to get caught. Levitation charms meant that the rock stacking attack never did anything, nearly all witches and wizards could swim at that time due to the commonality of aquatic potion ingredients so trying to drown us never worked and those holy symbols and their attempts to mime our chanting were hilarious. What can I say, we got tired of it."

"So the three hundred and seventeen deaths across England alone, including the Gryffindor ghost nearly headless Nick and some two hundred and fifty seven children had nothing to do with it?" there was a ripple of muttering around the room at that and most of his class mates had a look of horror on their faces, but Bins had gone back to his usual blank mask.

"That will be detention Mr. Stark." Bins said before launching back into his lecture on the 1103 goblin rebellion. Eric sat down and opened his book on transfiguration, might as well get some real studying done while Bins wore on about stuff he'd already read last year.

"Eric," Padma asked, laying down her quill and looking at him with the rest of the class "why would you say those things? Where did you learn all of that?"

"That was Malfoy's doing actually," Eric said, twisting in his seat to look at the blond, who was staring at him intently. "Yeah, you little cousin" he said before turning back to his friends. "You see, last year when I was dealing with trying to teach Draco wandless magic he said something that got me thinking, the wizarding world has twelve thousand years of known history, ten of them where we directly supported and mixed with civilian families and even then we still kept some fairly close ties with them until the statute of secrecy in the late 1600's so I got to thinking about why. I went to the library and asked Madam Pince a few questions and there it all was, plain for anyone who cared to look. The books don't come out and say it, but the impression that I got was that the wizarding world got scared. A few dozen stupid wizards here and there, over nearly two hundred years if the inquisition, who cares, but the kids? Wizards realized that even if the civilians couldn't properly strike out at a wizard with their wand, little kids who still performed accidental magic were both easy to find and kill. Those children's deaths nearly all happened in the last 20 years of the attacks, before the magical world decided that maybe mind magic wasn't so evil and was actually a good safety measure. Before 1690 the ICW maintained that Oblivious and similar mind altering spells were actually listed as dark magic and punishable by a stint in prison."

"That will be a weeks' detention Mr. Stark, would you care to try for more?"

_**1234567890987654321**_

Herbology with the snakes passed quietly in comparison to Eric's tantrum in history class. Aside from Professor sprouts being in a bad mood from an apparent meeting with Lockheart earlier that morning it was actually fairly pleasant. This class was covering mandrake root, a plant that when grown in dragons dung acquired magical properties, switching from a coma inducing drug to a restorative with a deadly howl. The history of the plant was an interesting one and after taking various questions from and for the class the squat witch went on to explain to the eager claws how older magicians and healers used the unenchanted root as a potions ingredient to cure a wide variety of mental ailments or as a curse focus for mind altering curses. The leaves on the top were also useful for quickly dealing with sores and ulcers.

As Eric washed off the dirt and dung in the sinks outside of greenhouse three he wondered just how the plant might be useful for fixing Bella. The poor girls mind was shattered as best he could tell from his daily examinations of the area. The strongest focal points of the ruin that represented her mindscape had been rapes by the Lestrange brothers, various tortures by the pair and her love for Tom Marvolo Riddle. That was actually the most interesting part of the whole experience Eric ruminated as he scrubbed the fertilizer out from under his fingernails.

Eric continued scrubbing as vivid memories of Bella's mind and Professor Sprouts lecture on Mandragora chased each other through his head. _The broken burnt out husk of a building stood before him, leaking smoke from holes in the roof and walls. He climbed the cracked and crumbling stone steps to the door and fingered the tarnished silver lettering that adorned the letter box. __3 Gri d Pl e__, half of the door was torn away but there was enough of it that he still needed to turn the handle. He'd entered through the fancy Victorians walls before but there was enough stress and damage in this mind he usually same here instead. Bending down he picked up a fragment of a plate and watched as a ghost of smiling nine year old Bella chasing Sirius around the kitchen with a plate of broccoli as Andromeda laughed before the foreign memory faded back into the background as if a ghost. _

_He continued through the house to the kitchen and placed the shard with more pieces of a plate before he left again. There was one place in the house that he'd had trouble getting into, a door that was made more of what looked like spellotape than mahogany. Touching it he got flashes of intense emotion and a handsome face with medium length black hair and classical features. He'd been seeking entrance to that room for the last two weeks as he was sure that's where Bella hid either her core personality and the key to restoring the rest of her or the library of her most important knowledge and secrets. To that end he'd slowly been piecing together the older woman's dementor eaten mind and building memory fragments in search of a key of sorts. He's tried a few times to simply force entry to the room, but the rest of the house had shaken so violently he wasn't sure there would be anything left once he gained entry._

_Eric looked down at the book in his hands; it was the pieced together fragments of the woman's journal, detailing her last year at Hogwarts and her fears of marriage to Rodolphus. The brutish pureblood was nearly a decade older than her and the rumors of his sexual proclivities scared even her, enough that she begged her parents to choose someone, anyone else. Her father, Cygnus, had been ready to give in, but her mother, Druella Rossier had been godmother to Rodolphus and ruled her family like a tyrant. Several pages detailed the weakening of her devotion to the pureblood cause and her monthly blood drenched rapes at the hands of her husband and his brothers but the pages after that were blackened ashes and Eric suspected that the real book had been burned at some point._

_Eric pressed the book against the door and used a handkerchief that had a lot of ghosts of the young Bellatrix Blacks many sorrows tied to it to envelop the handle as he turned it. Eric smiled sadly as the knob finally turned to reveal an almost pristine library. The room was the size of the Ravenclaw common room and covered in teak shelves supporting hundreds of books, three portraits and a tapestry. The room was mostly whole but deep cracks crisscrossed the area, one somehow even bisecting a chaise lounge without the piece of furniture collapsing. _

_That was how he had learned about Bellatrix's one true flame. The half couch thing had many ghostly memories of times she and Riddle had simply sat and talked, devising magic, plotting the downfall of the wizarding world and…_ Eric shook himself out of his reminiscences with a blush, his robes, gloves and hands were thoroughly cleaned and the bones in his hands had begun to radiate the shill of the water issuing from the tap. Pushing some magic into his hands Eric heated them and headed for the great hall. Hopefully he hadn't missed lunch. It seemed unlikely he'd been that long in reverie, but stranger things had happened.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Dumbledore rubbed his face in a rare display of weakness as he took his eyes of Professor Bins. _Eric, Eric, Eric,_ he thought sighing, _why couldn't the boy just be the docile student genius common of muggle raised ravens?_ The man had just returned from… 'visiting' the Longbottom's. It had been an interesting experience to say the least and Albus was certain he was beginning to piece together the scope of the boys' recent machinations. The question now was; what to do about it?

Frank and Alice's minds had revealed that Eric had revived the pair with rather impressive doses of the Elixir of Life, nearly a quart of the stuff, which he claimed to have stolen from Flamel himself. While that explanation would explain Nicolas' fresh rancor, a heist of such magnitude suggested far more prodigious skills than the ancient professor was willing to believe the boy held. However, that the boy had access to the potion and claimed such a feat pointed to the far more interesting possibility that he had been the reason for the stone's disappearance.

It explained a number of things actually, the boys sudden fortunes, the abrupt revival of his father and people connected to him, the boys donation to the Weasley's; it all fit, including the disappearance of Bellatrix Lestrange from Azkaban which he supposed was the boys motivation for helping the Longbottom's.

The question that bothered him, was why?

Why go to all that trouble? How far ahead did the boy think and why was his ultimate goal? Had he been planning this from the beginning or was he making things up as he went along? The boys' recent disruption of Bins' class, asking about dark lords and challenging the importance of wizarding culture… what was his aim? Everything the boy did built too neatly on itself, the branches to concise to be random, what did this have to do with it all? Was he planning to take notes from the failures of his predecessors? Or did he think awareness of the atrocities of the past were something his classmates needed to understand? The point he had made about the muggle raised knowledge gap was a good one however…

The ancient professor sighed and looked pleadingly at the ghostly one before him. He had an IQ of 183; it really shouldn't be this difficult to get a fix on one simple boy!

"Who would you like Eric to serve his detentions with, Cuthbert?"

"It matters not," the shade rattled "just find someone and some time that would be harsh to him. The boy openly mocks me and broaches subjects forbidden by the ministry. You English types produce enough dark lords without actively studying examples of such behavior in classes."

"And so instead they will learn about it thought their history books and defense classes." Dumbledore said tiredly, it was an old argument when he had first started teaching alongside the man and one they were not likely reconcile soon. "Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it."

"Be that as it may, the minis…"

"Yes, yes…" Dumbledore said, waving ghost off. "I'll offer the detentions to the professors at the next staff meeting." The ghost nodded stiffly and Albus turned back to the soup on his desk.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Ginerva Molly Weasley hummed easily to herself as she ate her lunch with one hand and wrote in her diary with the other. The small black book had been a rather pleasant surprise from the second hand shop most of her books had come from. What she had first taken to be a simple diary had proven to be an enchanted confidant, an intelligent book that was charming, funny, sensitive and had lots of good advice.

Hello again Tom, she wrote smiling as the ink began to fade into the page, transmitting her words to the kind older boy wherever or whatever he was. The mornings classes were quite interesting, was flitwick always so exuberant when you were here?

Oh, certainly, came the response I dare say he was even more so back then, you see, professor Flitwick started teaching in my third year, fresh out of his dueling days. Does he still squeak about constant vigilance?

Ginny laughed constant vigilance? She asked. No, not yet leastwise, besides I thought that was 'mad-eye Moody's' catch phrase?

Hmm… Tom wrote back he does indeed, thought I don't know anyone by the name of Moody, who is he?

One of my fathers friends in the Auror office. He was a hero in the last war with a recent dark lord and is paranoid like you wouldn't believe!

Oh, I don't know, I like to think I'd believe quite a bit. Tom answered now, how was your day? Had time to spy on that Harry Potter boy you've been gushing about recently?

Only a little Ginny groused, frowning at her book, rumors during breakfast mostly.

Do tell?

A fair number of students were levitating things without their wands and when I asked about it the second years said Harry was one of the leaders of the club where they learned it.

Only one of the leaders? Tom asked carefully from your descriptions of him I would have expected him to be The leader…

No, apparently that Eric boy who's been causing my brothers so much trouble leads them. She wrote back stuffing the corner of some sweet brown bread into her mouth and redipping her quill. Apparently he's a half blood, found his family among the blacks recently or so Fred and George tell me. They claim he's been doing accidental magic on purpose since he was six, but that's impossible. She penned with a snort.

Not entirely… Tom returned.

What?

I performed wandless magic as a child as well; I was quite good at it too. You should see what you can learn from him. Ginny looked at the words for a long moment even after they had faded from the page. It wasn't exactly a bad idea, Harry would be there and she would need time in his presence if he was going to get him away from that mudblood skank…

Alright Tom, rumor has it he holds meetings Saturday after noon.

Good, now, here's what we'll do…

_**12345678987654321**_

Eric closed the door to his room in Ravenclaw tower and pulled his mirror out of his pocket. "Mr. Weasley, Arthur."

A few seconds later the thinning red head came into view, a cluttered office behind him. "Oh, hello Eric, my boy. I suppose you got Molly's letter then?"

"Indeed" he said darkly. "But I would like to know what you think, sir."

"Well…" Mr. Weasley temporized.

"I'm sensing a but coming."

"Molly doesn't want me to make your car, let alone work for you." He said heavily.

Eric raised a brow in reply "And I suppose she wants to give back the gold then?"

"Um, no, actually… she was planning to visit Bill with it over Christmas."

Eric stared blankly at them man. "I gave you that gold in good faith" Eric enunciated slowly "with the expectation that you would craft me a car, something that the two of you inform me she has forbidden you to do, and she still expects to spend it?" Mr. Weasley, who had been getting whiter with every word nodded slowly and gulped. "Your sons obviously didn't get their brains from her side of the family… though there is Ronald." Eric shook his head, disgust clear in his voice. "What's your take on all this?"

"Well, I'd love to make you your car. It's not particularly wise to go against Molly though."

"Oh? Whatever you decide I'll happily come through her to collect."

"Yes, well, you see… the thing is, as much as my wife is a little tyrant, I love her; I really do. She wasn't always like this either." The man said, rubbing his face.

"Do tell?" Eric queried, looking interested.

"What do you know about the war with he-who-must-not-be-named?" the older wizard asked.

"Interesting times and all that rot. A lot of people dying, enough so that the student population is a third of what it was supposed to be. Sirius said that despite the order of the phoenix, Dumbledore, the ministry being on your side, you were all losing and badly. Stuck in a delaying action as the old man played a war of attrition."

"That sounds about right." Arthur nodded. "Molly's always been a kind and protective person" Eric snorted and Mr. Weasley gave him a look "and we married fairly young, right out of school in fact. Things were find for a few years, we had a Bill and Charlie and then the war started up. Truth be told it had really started before we had even graduated, but it wasn't till Percy was born that things really started being noticeable. We got into the Order with Dumbledore and acted as a safe house and I was one of Albus' eyes in the ministry. Then Gideon and Fabian Prewitt were killed. Molly took her brothers deaths hard, where she had openly disliked the dark arts and dark aligned families before, she became deeply outspoken and resentful of them and gained a protective streak that was positively smothering. Our children and I love her, but it's not much of a secret that Bill and Charlie chose their jobs for the separation from her and I fear Percy and the twins are headed the same way."

"So her fury at me offering you a job away from the ministry is related… how?"

"Well, you're a black, and your family... well, let's just say their reputation leaves much to be desired. She was rather unfriendly to Sirius and Andromeda for quite some time and all that business with Peter framing your father for the murder of two of her friends… well. Beyond that the ministry had been our livelihood for nearly 25 years and the aurors were responsible for the capture and execution of her families' killers so my job is fairly important to her."

Eric frowned. "How much do you make a year?"

"Umm, well, you see… my department isn't very well looked on so our budget is fairly small. 2000 galleons' a year for me, one and a half for Perkins." Mr. Weasley said sheepishly.

"And with Hogwarts tuition being 500G per person per year, I guess that means your children go on the scholarship I was offered?" Eric said pinching the bridge of his nose.

Arthur looked shocked, "you were offered the scholarship? But you're rich!"

Eric laughed bitterly "I didn't start out that way, I thought you said you'd talked to your sons about me? I started off as an orphaned street rat. When I found out about the magical world I made a business for myself as a bit of a go between for a select cliental. I made my fortune on my own. I didn't find out I had a trust vault at Gringotts just a few months ago. It changed things, sure, but I could have bought your job at the ministry without it."

"Alright, I'll make you're here at the office as payment for that gold you gave us; it's not typically very busy here anyways and I tend to tinker in my garage for a few hours every day after work anyways. I'll tell Molly it's overtime or something. Beyond that… I'd be willing to take commissions."

Eric folded his hands under his chin in thought for a short time then nodded. "Like an artist then; agreed." He said, pulling out a sheet of paper he'd printed off a civilian computer right after he'd first talked with the man. "Now here's what I want…"

_**1234567890987654321**_

Thursday was fairly quiet compared to Wednesday, Eric merely doing his usual shtick as teachers pet and ensuring as many people could perform the practical portion of the lesson as possible, even pushing several of them to silent and wandless casting. The afternoon was spent in another conversation with Arthur as they drew out plans for their enchanted car. Eric had gone for a classic design both as a joke and an easy way to offer plausible deniability to both the ministry and civilian authorities in the eventuality he got caught flying in public. Eric paused for a moment on his way to dinner, he was going to have to make a point of showing the school the back to the future series some time, he thought, a mu on his face. _I guess I have my next project_ he thought to himself as he took his seat at the Ravenclaw table.

Friday morning Eric joined the Puffs and Claws inside of Lockhearts class room with a feeling of trepidation. Would the guy be a half decent teacher or would he be vindicated in his belief that the man was a useless fop?

Suddenly the door behind the teachers desk banged open with a gust of air and there stood the blond smirking visage of Gilderoy Lockheart, powder blue robes swaying in the breeze. As the spell cut off the man finished making his entrance into the room and addressed the class. "Me," he said, pointing at a winking, smiling portrait on the wall and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

He paused as if waiting for them to laugh; a few of the girls simpered and Eric let his head fall to bang against the table, but nobody laughed. Lockheart frowned slightly but the expression disappeared almost as quickly as it had come and the wavy blond forged ahead.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books - well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about - just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in-"

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes - start - now!"

Eric scanned the paper quickly, desperately searching for some redeeming quality to the situation.  
1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart s favorite color?  
2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?  
3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?  
On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:  
54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?

Eric closed his eyes and fought off a shudder of horror. He'd seen teachers who did this occasionally, and read about them often enough in his fictions and varying studies but this was entirely limited to character fluff. "Professor?" he asked, raising a hand.

"Yes," Lockheart looked down at a class seating map quickly "Mr. Black, what do you need?" he asked pleasantly "I can't help you with the test but if you need anything clarified I'd be happy to assist!"

"Is there a point to this? We're here to learn about defending ourselves from dangerous creatures and wizards, not what type of perfume you like…"

The scratching of quills froze and on either side of him Su and Padma moaned. _Thanks for the support guys_ he thought with a note of exasperation coloring his mental voice.

_Is this really necessary? _Su shot back.

_Absolutely_ Eric returned with a hint of amusement and sarcasm _us personality cult leaders absolutely hate to share…_ Padma hit him over the back of the head and he sent her a wounded expression.

"Thank you Ms. Patil." Lockheart said trying to look disapproving. "As I said just a few minutes ago, this test is designed to see if you actually read my books. Little details to see if you actually paid attention."

"Then wouldn't it be more prudent to ask the names of the scourge of Europe from voyages with vampires or where you met the wendigo during year with the yeti? Those are small details that anyone who'd taken a few hours to read your books would recognize and have actual scholastic value to them."

"Oh? Then I suppose you won't have a problem with todays' practical exam." The man said, smirking evilly. The class at this point had completely abandoned the fluff test to watch the ongoing battle between the two miniature titans.

Eric grinned. "Bring it on."

"Alright class, I must ask you not to scream, for I, Professor Lockheart, am here to teach you how to defend yourself from the worst sort of **dark** creatures imaginable!" He slowly and theatrically raised a covered bird cage and placed it on his desk before whipping off the covering. "Freshly caught Doxies!" Eric face fell and he resisted the urge to bang his head against the desk again, an expression which Lockheart unfortunately took for fear. "YES! Frightening aren't they?" he said in what Eric assumed was supposed to be a mysterious voice. "Originally fairies, these little blighters were first spawned when a hive of fairies were corrupted by dark magic, Doxies are poisonous, aggressive and highly intelligent! Come to the front of the room, Mr. Black, and we'll see what you make of them!"

Eric got up and trudged over to the teachers' desk, a faint purple light trailing in his wake like an aurora, practically invisible in the brightly lit classroom. Several of the students snickered but otherwise the room was silent save for the Doxies in their cage, chirping obscenities in voices so high they sounded like cicadas. Gilderoy glanced at him sourly, "try not to get bitten." He sneered and tugged on the cages door.

Only it didn't open.

"Is something wrong professor?" Eric asked, the picture of innocence.

"No… no I just forgot to unlock it. Alohamora!" he said and tugged at the door again, but it still refused to budge. A few of the students noticed a slight flicker of purple along the bars and the laughing became louder.

"So, sir, while we're waiting here, how would you suggest dealing with doxies?" Eric asked with exaggerated politeness, bending at the waist to better observe the dark fairies as Lockheart struggled with their cage. Even close up they were kind of pretty he thought absently. Like fairies they appeared to be nearly human though with a few obvious differences. First off, well, they were small. Then there were the wings, on a fairy the wings changed with the climate and probably other factors being either humming bird wings, butterfly or, more typically, gossamer dragonfly like builds. Doxies on the other hand had hard shiny wings deeply reminiscent of a beetle, though certainly no less pretty to look at. Then where humans and fairies were smooth skinned and fairies tended to have lighter skin tones, doxies had soft, jet black fur over most of their bodies.

That was when things got weird. Where fairies followed the human pattern of two legs, two arms one row human shaped teeth, doxy's arms and legs could split into four, no less powerful, limbs and they had multiple rows of sharp venomous fangs. That being said, Doxy venom didn't kill, or at least, not quickly. A bite or two caused the typical victim to suffer slight flue like symptoms, the more bites you get the worse you feel, pretty simple. Eventually the victim starts vomiting uncontrollably, explosive diarrhea, runny nose, coughing till they hack up blood, and eventually they die of dehydration.

Unless you take the antidote… Which, strangely enough, is a potion to which the active ingredient is a doxy's heart. Convenient, right? Whoever said potioneers and healers had no sense of humor?

On the whole though the wizarding world labeled doxies as pests and killed them as such with an aerosoled potion called doxiecide whose active ingredient was the doxy's own venom. Interesting little thing when one considers that the Ministry of Magic labels anything doxy related as a class C non tradable item.

They could be killed any other way you could think to hurt a creature as well, but their speed and agility typically precluded wizards from being able to hit the speed little buggers.

Deciding he'd had his fun with the cage Eric let go of the magic he was using to hold it closed and the weak metal wires tore open under Gilderoy's hand. Tilting his head to the side Eric put a barrier between the class and the doxies, who swarmed over Lockheart, suddenly looking significantly less pretty. Eric snickered quietly as they bugs bounced off a shimmering plum shield barely centimeters from the professors skin while the man waved his arms around wildly, screaming in terror as he tried to protect his face. It was decidedly mean, but the man wouldn't end up hurt.

"Excuse me, professor! I didn't quite catch that! How were we supposed to deal with the doxies? You should really try to calm down professor; I don't think that's working!" by this point the entire class was either laughing; the boys, or looking at the man, expressions torn between concern and disgust. Eric felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Neville standing there.

"I think that's enough Eric, you've made your point, whatever it is." The boy had such a serious expression on his face Eric didn't even pout and try to weasel in a few more minutes, he simply nodded.

"Alright." He replied, turning back to the attack. Raising his arm for the class to see he clenched his fist and the doxies froze in midair. Gilderoy Lockheart continued to scream for several seconds as the black fairies floated away from him, no longer making a sound or even twitching. Eric moved the little creatures back into their cage and set the latch. "Did you even have doxiecide?" Eric asked him in disgust. When the man didn't respond Eric shook his head. "Your face is fine, with all your screaming I suppose you didn't even notice that you don't have a bite or scratch on you. Falling to a swarm of doxies, and you call yourself a professor?"

Eric went back to his seat, gathered his materials and walked out of the classroom silently, unchallenged by Gilderoy.

Much of the class followed after him.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Albus Dumbledore stormed around his office running his fingers through his beard. He'd had people coming to him all week asking for a complete syllabus for the defense against the dark arts classes and now Stark, damn the boy, had brazenly led walk out on his professor. He looked at the man lying insensate on the floor and scowled, he'd hired Gildreroy despite the misgivings he'd had when the boy did so poorly on his NEWTs because Lockheart had built himself a rather grand reputation after leaving the school, defending town from dark entities, earning titles, publishing books and all around becoming a household name.

Sixth, seventh, fifths and second years had all expressed, subtlety or otherwise, that they'd rather be rid of this teacher. Not even that absolute nervous wreck Quirrel portrayed had received this kind of response! And it was only going to get worse, of that he was certain. Damn Stark… damn him. He would have to publicly crack down on the boy or it would be chaos, kids thinking they could just challenge their teachers and get away with it, no, something would have to be done… something… creative.

At the very least the boy hadn't acted without reason, he thought grumpily to himself. Only the briefest jaunt through Gilderoy's mind had proven the man to be a thief and a fraud, though how Eric had figured it out Dumbledore was at a loss. The question was, what to do about it? He had hired Gildreoy in the first place because he was the only person willing to take the job after the recent rash of deaths related to the gone before a year curse Tom had left on the position, but who could he… Dumbledore's eyes widened. The Longbottoms! Eric had recently revived them to curry enough favor with Augusta and Neville to release Bellatrix from Azkaban and he was sure they would love to have the time to properly get to know their son! The old man smiled as he looked down on the blond ponce sprawled across his floor, after all, when one door closes…

_**1234567890987654321**_

"You have **got** to be kidding me."

Eric dropped several feet in the air to avoid the hands moving to slap the back of his head and grinned. "C'mon Padma, this is me we're talking about" he replied as he floated on his back beneath them.

"Yes, but a dragon?" Su asked shrilly. "How could anyone, even you be irresponsible enough to help and untrained, inexperienced half-giant raise an illegal dragon **this close to the school!?**"

Eric looked at his hands and then back at the pair of girls "You know you're talking to a twelve year old boy, right? Of sound mind we typically are not. I may be a bit ahead of the curve as a Claw, but my thought process was still 'Cool, Dragon!' and 'how can we get away with this?' rather than "this is a bad idea, what now?' Seriously, what do you think I keep you two around for? " He finished that last part with a playful grin to let them know he wasn't trying to be hurtful with the statement.

The girls looked at each other and then said in unison "Get him." Eric's eyes grew wide and the three of them shot off, chasing each other through the threes, Eric cackling like a maniac and the pair of girls howling epitaphs behind him. Meanwhile, on the ground, Harry and Hermione were talking with Hagrid about the now 20 foot long Freya.

"**Well, I sorta know how she's feelin buh thar ain no thoughts I kin recognize 'ermione.**" Hagrid rumbled happily as the bushy haired girl took notes. "**Leas ways, no yet. I's all like thars a secun set ar feelins in de back er me head, you know? Separate, bu thar all the same.**"

"No, I don't know" Hermione said scribbling away on a spiral note pad "but I can imagine. Have you noticed anything different about yourself since Freya hatched?" the brunette asked, seemingly all business.

"**Well, jus little things,**" the half giant replied shifting on his rock "**I kin see an 'ear be'er, and me nose is almos too sensitive. Then thar's me fire spells Eric taught me, them's much easier since Freya been hatching.**" As if eager to demonstrate Hagrid cupped his hands together and a campfire popped into being just over them. Hermione nodded, her pen now a blur as it moved across the page and Hagrid continued. "**'ery thin else still leave me nee'in ter think real hard on i' but fire comes easy now.**"

Hermione was about to continue with her questions as she looked up, but suddenly squeaked and scrambled back quickly. Harry had approached, leading Freya by a hand on the back of one of the ridgebacks neck. "She's also a lot more docile than dragons are supposed to be." Harry said, helping Hermione back to her feet. "It was a bit rough and tumble back there for a while, but she kept her fangs back and didn't press to hard when she tried to bite me."

"_She tried to bite you!?_" Hermione squealed, hands to her face, the notebook and pen falling to the ground.

"Well, yeah, sort of like fang does when we come down here sometimes." Harry paused "actually, a **lot** like fang does… that's creepy now that I think about it, 'from savage dinosaur to playful house pet, familiar taming training, take the bite out of the beast'." He said, framing his words like they'd seen Eric do on occasion. Hermione giggled nervously and retrieved her pad and pen, writing that down.

"SO! How'd you make this place? I didn't recognize it from the air and I've flown over this forest often enough since Eric made us these cloaks. I can't imagine the staff would be pleased to have you raising a dragon on school property."

"**Ah, well, this area used ter be a bi o unicorn territory bu wit tha wraith thing las year them unicorns been avoidin the area. A couple o them almost died 'er you see, and they don take kinely ter tha. Bein said, I moved a few of the ward stones and brought the old dragon wards out o storage fore digging this place up. It'd taken me months but fer Eric teachin me magic. A nice sized trench for a lake and a book on healthy waters an I were able to make this place. Tha clif in cave over thar I raised meself, like pickin up a log so I could get a second cave beneath the stone cause a lot of fishes Ridgebacks like live under a hanger lik tha.**"

The pair of 12 year olds looked at him stunned for several minutes. "We have dragon wards?" Harry finally spoke up, voice incredulous. Hagrid laughed.

_**1234567890987654321**_

Saturday morning the teachers had gathered in Dumbledore's office for the first weekly staff meeting of the new year, food spread out before them on small floating trays that were refilled by house elves. The trays moved eagerly around the room offering their cargo to the various inhabitants of the room and often sulking or preening as they were turned away or browsed. Dumbledore sat behind his desk calmly listening to professor Babbling talk about the temperaments of his new third years. Things continued along the other teachers until it got to Snape.

"There was something, Albus." Severus said hesitantly.

"Oh?"

"My new first year Gryffindor Slytherin class held a powerful dark presence. I couldn't pinpoint it in any of the students minds but it bears watching regardless." The sallow skinned man said.

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "That's just as well, I suppose." Several of the gathered teachers looked at him in confusion. "As I'm sure you all noticed Professor Lockheart is no longer with us. After an… ah, incident, yesterday there was a school wide negative response to the man that prompted me to make a more thorough investigation of the man's dossier. It seems that Mr. Lockheart has made his reputation by stealing the achievements of better wizards and wiping their minds before writing books that substituted himself into their adventures." He left it unsaid that the man had repeated his incompetence throughout several classes. Doxies, pixies, Hinkypunk, kapa, a 'friendly' vampire', improper handling of boggarts, failing at numerous spell demonstrations… it was a wonder he hadn't been caught out some time ago.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "That being said we need a new defense teacher…" he paused smiling softly as he watched names flash through his various instructors minds "how would you feel about Frank and Alice Longbottom?" The room exploded into voices mostly ranging from surprise to confusion.

"But professor," McGonagall said, "They were raised from their coma by dark magic, are you sure you want your students exposed to such?"

"Ah, about that." The old man said, leaning forward on his desk and steepling his hands. "The story Augusta Longbottom offered about utilizing a ritual to restore her son and daughter in law by sacrificing herself in an old ritual, life for life was a lie." He smiled as everyone looked at him stunned and expectant. "The truth behind the incident is one I'm actually disappointed you didn't already suspect Minerva, given how highly you think of the boy…"

"Eric? But how? Over a decade and Saint Mungo's was still stumped…"

"The boy managed to get his hands of a fairly large quantity of Nicolas's Elixir and literally forced it down their throats."

"Nicolas?" asked Charity Burbage, the muggle studies teacher.

"Flamel." Dumbledore said, smiling behind his hands as the room reacted in a wave of shock, minus Minerva who brought her hand to the bridge of her nose and Snape who already knew.

"That boy's going to be the death of us." She muttered. "I assume he was responsible for the disappearance of the sorcerer's stone from the school basement last year?"

"That is the best theory, the note left with the replacement stone bears his humor." The silver haired ancient replied watching the rest of the room rock with the repeated revelations. Normally he would have played things like this close to the vest, but Eric had proven far too adept at evading his sight, setting the rest of the staff on him might reveal more. If the boy wanted to change the game then he would have to deal with players who were just as adaptable as himself.

"That being said, it brings us to our next order of business" Dumbledore said gravely. "I assume most of you have heard of the new sorcery club or at least noticed the distinct rise in silent and wandless magic going on in the dining hall, corridors and classes?"

"Considering the thrust of recent conversation" croaked the Care of Magical Creatures professor, Silvanus Kettleburn "this is also Eric's fault?"

"Indeed." Dumbledore nodded. "Enough students have joined the group and actively learn from it that I intend to make it an official elective. Professor Flitwick" he nodded to the tiny man, "has spent a significant amount of time familiarizing himself with the course and offered his recommendation. Unfortunately a course at this school requires a professor and I cannot in good conscious sacrifice Flitwick to take over the study so I'll be asking you all to keep an eye out for prospective professors with a suitable open mind to come and learn enough to build a proper course of study for the endeavor."

Dumbledore smiled as he saw their minds light up with possible students they thought might be useful and fought to keep a smirk from marring his features. Another level of control was building, another level of separation between Eric and his quickly building powerbase. Now, to find just the right person to mollify the boy and convince him that his class would be taught properly so that he would be willing to work under rather than counter to them. If only dealing with Tom had been this easy…

The rest of the staff meeting went rather simply after that, the various teachers had almost been done with their reports anyways and when they were done it was very nearly lunchtime. As the rest of the teachers filed out of the room Dumbledore motioned for Severus to stay behind. When the door was closed by a suspicious looking McGonagall Dumbledore turned to his potions master with a grim look.

"Eric has received a week of detentions from Professor bins and would have likely received much worse from Lockheart if the man had possessed enough sense to fill a tea cup. It seems he's taken a shining to publicly battering what he sees as substandard teachers. I'm only not suspending him because everything he's said and done has been entirely justifiable. I would like you to deal with his punishment as you seem to be one of the few he respects in a disciplinary capacity. I'd also like you to try and use the time to worm the location and status of the sorcerer's stone out of him."

Snape looked at the old man with an inscrutable expression for several minutes. "You sound as if you're sending me to spy on the dark lord again, Albus… my dislike of Black and his father aside, do you really think this is prudent?"

"Entirely. I trust you to hold your prejudice in check, but it is also your prejudice that prompts me to believe you will give the matter the proper attention. Where Tom was subtle and predictable, Eric for all his blunt instrument approach to control is mysterious and unpredictable in the extreme, something that makes him far more dangerous. I need him watched and closely, lest he take his particular brand of insanity down a dark path."

Snape nodded slowly "I was wondering why you were being so open with the rest of the staff; it was very unlike you. On that note however, are you sure about hiring Longbottom? I know they were skilled Aurors back in the day, but with the incredibly recent nature of their recovery and the dark lords curse on the position it strikes me as…unwise."

"Yes, Severus, I have indeed thought of that and made a point to mention it in my missives with the man. He's suggested quite an interesting solution to the situation. I shall hire him for the duration of the year and then he shall retire in favor of his wife. At the end of each year they intend to trade off who deals with their family responsibilities and the school. Since neither will last longer than a year the curse should be satisfied, and if not, well… the Longbottoms are trained curse-breakers and like the Potters faced Tom three times in battle and survived. I expect they shall pull through. Now, tell me, what do you think would be a suitable punishment for Mr. Starks recent behavior."

AN: I'd like to point out before you flame me on the Molly bashing, that Bill, Charlie, the twins and, at current, Percy don't hate their mother and are still on fairly good terms with her, canon and fanon, but all of them moved out as soon as they could and, for the most part, did their best to politely estrange themselves the moment they got their NEWT's. I don't know about you, but this seems like major supported unpleasantness to me, sort of an 'I love you, but familiarity breeds contempt' sort of thing. Add that to the Weasley families psyche profile done by numerous fans and detractors in the professional psychology community… I am at least trying to keep the bashing rational rather than the typical 'Molly is a blind savage with a motherly bent' thing so many writers do.


End file.
